One hundred miles into my two-hundred mile journey, I was seriously considering calling it quits.

I was tired and sore, and I had blisters on every single one of my toes. Even the thought of putting my pack on again in the morning filled me with dread.

What would be so bad, I thought, about hopping on a bus at the next town? Putting myself out of this misery?

I was hiking a portion of the Camino de Santiago, a path across the north of Spain from the French border to Santiago de Compostela, where St. James the Apostle is supposedly buried.

Although I am not religious, I have always loved the idea of a pilgrimage: the singularity of purpose, the inevitable hardship and triumph over adversity, the camaraderie with other pilgrims.

And the fact that you get to call yourself a pilgrim.

Over the past millennium, thousands of people, from all over Europe and all over the world, have made the pilgrimage to Santiago. Halfway through my journey, I wasn’t sure I would be able to count myself among them.

What follows are a few lessons I learned about travel and life during my journey to Santiago.

1. Be Kind To Your Feet

The number one piece of advice I can give about taking any kind of backpacking trip is to buy good shoes.

I walked in a pair of too-small boots that I hadn’t used since high school, and although I lived to tell about it, there were times when I thought I might come back missing a toe or two.

I spent an entire day of my trip thinking only about how to describe the terrible pain – and finally came up with this: With each step, I felt like my little toes were being passed through a meat grinder.

I’m no gear head, but I will never again mess around with inadequate footwear.

It also doesn’t hurt to be prepared with a basic first aid kit just in case. On any backpacking trip, I carry medical tape to cover any spots that are rubbing (some people prefer duct tape, believe it or not), mole skin for padding, and baby powder to keep my feet dry, which also helps to stop rubbing.

As for other types of gear, there isn’t a lot that is necessary. Which brings me to my second point.

2. Travel Light

I started out with what I thought was a pretty light load, but the longer I hiked, the more I realized what I didn’t need, and how every ounce makes a difference when you’re schlepping it on your back.

Halfway through my walk, I ended up sending myself a 5 pound package general delivery to Santiago for pick-up at the end of the trip. I ended up with the following in my backpack:

• One outfit for the daytime
• one outfit for the night
• one extra pair of underwear
• basic toiletries and first aid supplies
• sunscreen, soap for washing my self and my clothes, foot care items
• water bottles
• a sleeping bag
• and a journal

That’s it.

While I was hiking, I met a man who was carrying absolutely nothing. He had one outfit that he wore day and night, and it included a large piece of fabric that he used as both a garment and a sheet. One of the most amazing things about backpacking is realizing how little it takes be happy and content.

3. Be Open To The Journey And To Other Travelers

Whether or not you set out with a religious or spiritual intention, traveling by foot can be a deeply spiritual act.

Unfortunately, it is all too common for travelers to get caught up in competition for spaces in the nicest guest houses, to obsess over how far they are able to travel in a day, to put too much emphasis on the destination without taking the time to appreciate the journey, one of the best parts of which is meeting other people.

Especially during difficult times, I found how nice it was to have other people to rely on for comfort. I also found that if I were open to it and willing to listen, people said exactly what I needed to hear when I needed to hear it.

4. Go Easy On Yourself

Part of what makes travel meaningful is dealing with difficulty. Of course, it’s easy to get discouraged, to get frustrated, and to blame ourselves for everything we have failed to do right.

Ultimately, though, what would a pilgrimage be without trials?

What’s really important is to deal with what comes up as it arises. Even the most prepared pilgrim can’t plan for everything.

One Foot In Front Of The Other

Of course, I didn’t have the benefit of this advice before I started my pilgrimage, and nursing my blisters halfway through, I really did think about quitting.

After a hot meal and half a bottle of wine (that’s how they do it in Spain, you know), I was feeling a bit more optimistic. At least, I thought, I can make it through one more day.

I continued until one morning, miraculously, my feet didn’t hurt any more. My blisters had hardened into thick calluses. By the time I made it to Santiago, I was even a little disappointed not to be able to look forward to walking again the next day.

Although I wouldn’t trade my experience on the Camino for anything, I am certain that the next time I take a pilgrimage (or even go on a weekend trip), I will be better prepared.

Inspired by the Camino de Santiago? Thinking about doing the pilgrimage yourself? Check out Walking the Camino de Santiago, a feature article in Matador’s Traverse magazine.

Laurie Pickard is a lifelong lover of travel and learning. She grew up in suburban St. Louis and currently lives in Philadelphia, where she is working on a master’s degree in geography. Laurie is passionate about languages, cultures, people, and places. She is currently planning her next trip, which will be to South America in fall 2008.

First things first. I didn’t actually read The Geography of Bliss.

I wanted to, and I wanted to like it; I really did. The simplicity and crisp color of the cover drew me in when I first saw it in the bookstore, as did the author’s premise.

He would spend a year traveling to ten countries in search of something that was, for him, as elusive as the Fountain of Youth: happiness.

As a self-admitted mope, Eric Weiner, a veteran foreign correspondent for National Public Radio, wanted to find out if some places in the world were happier than others, and if so, why.

But when my review copy of The Geography of Bliss arrived, it was in the form of a hefty package of 11 CDs. The audiobook version of The Geography of Bliss runs right around 12 hours.

12 hours.

And if Weiner’s being honest about himself, I should be forthcoming, too. I don’t like audiobooks. Still, I set aside my preference for the written word and spent 12 hours with the spoken word, read by the author himself.

I was interested enough in the reason for Weiner’s journey, not because I believed he’d find the geography of bliss, but because I thought the trip itself might make for some interesting stories, both about the people and places he’d met and about Weiner coming to know himself.

Unfortunately, I was wrong.

Ask The “Experts”

The principal problem with Weiner’s book is that he sacrifices the richness of his own travel stories by constantly indulging his maddening propensity to turn to “experts” to explain what happiness is and what makes humans happy.

While many writers have worked wonders unscrolling their personal narratives against the backdrop of a well-rendered historical and sociocultural context, Weiner’s attempts to do so are both awkward and distracting.

Weiner is particularly fond of scientific studies, and he logs empirical results as if piling up a sufficient number of scholars’ conclusions will substantiate a hypothesis that he himself has not defined clearly.

This narrative conceit could work in defter hands, but Weiner seems to be more confident in studies than he is in his own experiences. This is a shame because the best travel writers know that it’s the story-their story-that’s everything.

A Shallow Search

Since we’re talking science more than travelogue, it’s worth mentioning that Weiner’s methodology is also problematic.

There’s the matter of Weiner’s crossing a border long enough to get a feel for the country but short enough to avoid too much of its reality, the layers and complexities of which are only exposed over time.

Weiner says that his schedule was dictated by “local rhythms” rather than the journalist’s deadline to which he was accustomed, but the moments in the book when Weiner “goes local” are few and far between.

More often than not, his “local” connection is an expat, whose decision to live in the place he is visiting is verification enough for Weiner that his contact is a representative liaison qualified to pass judgment on local happiness.

Fondue + Trains + Chocolate = Happiness?

Weiner’s strategy for cultural immersion is also limiting. Weiner begins his visit to Switzerland, for instance, by connecting with Susan, an American whose “candor is constantly bumping up against the Swiss reserve.”

Susan hardly seems the best person to introduce Weiner to Swiss life and facilitate his search for the happiness grail. Yet Weiner doesn’t find it problematic that Susan’s assessment of the Swiss is that they are “culturally constipated.”

Instead, he entrusts Susan to give him entree into the Swiss mindset. She takes that trust and makes sure Weiner eats some fondue, which, along with impeccably clean Swiss trains and chocolate, is so deeply satisfying that Weiner doesn’t feel compelled to dig deeper into Swiss life.

The perpetually glum Weiner has experienced happiness, however superficial and fleeting it may be, which is good enough for him. Next country!

The Swiss, he concludes hastily before moving on-in much the same way he will conclude about the other countries he visits-are not particularly happy, though they are capable of a mix of contentment and joy, for which he coins the term “conjoyment.”

This strategy of avoiding any definitive conclusions allows Weiner to seize his own moments of happiness while absolving him of the responsibility to arrive at any meaningful or decisive declarations for his reader.

A World Traveler Falls Short

What makes Weiner’s willingness to be guided by others particularly troubling is the fact that his travel resume is fairly impressive.

As a foreign correspondent for NPR, Weiner has a good bit of ink in his passport, having reported from Bhutan and the Middle East. Clearly, he’s no stranger to the world’s trouble spots.

Perhaps it’s his career-long immersion in conflict zones and his reportorial bent that made it difficult for him to view The Geography of Bliss as anything other than a quasi-academic exercise.

On his website, Weiner writers that The Geography of Bliss is about place. “Change your place, I believe,” he writes easily, “and you can change your life.” Perhaps.

But The Geography of Bliss fails to convince the reader that Weiner understands the places he visited, much less the joy of discovering others… and oneself.

Grab your copy of The Geography of Bliss from Amazon.

What do you think about The Geography Of Happiness (the book or the idea)? Share your thoughts below!

Julie Schwietert Collazo is a writer, editor, researcher, and translator who lives in New York, Mexico City, and San Juan. She has a BA in English and Women’s Studies, a Masters of Social Work, and is working on a PhD in Literature at the Centro de Estudios Avanzados de Puerto Rico y el Caribe.

Crossing streets in foreign countries is often a daunting task. In big cities like Bangkok or Delhi, it can seem as if stop signs, red lights and crosswalks all mean GO FASTER!

“If I could change one thing about the world, it would be disabling all car horns,” my husband said to me as we were walking in downtown Cairo. Not solving world peace or world hunger – disabling car horns.

During our stroll in Cairo I was acutely more aware of the sweet smells of shisha coming from sidewalk cafes to pay much attention to the traffic, let alone the honking cars, but getting distracted by the scenery can be dangerous.

Once, I was almost annihilated by a taxi while trying to cross the street (at a crosswalk mind you) to get back to our hotel.

In a western country we are used to hearing the horn as an outburst of anger or road rage, a scream that means: “Get out of my way!,” or “Hurry up!”

This is not as true in many countries, especially in Southeast Asia, Latin America and Africa where a horn can simply be a taxi asking if you want a lift, or a car letting you know they are about to pass, or even just a simple, “I’m here,” from a smaller car to a bigger one.

Of course, horns can also shout out rage from time to time, but although the street can sound crazy, not every honk is an expression of anger – or danger.

Guide to Crossing The Road

Horns aside, when crossing the street look both ways. There’s a reason your parents and teachers told you this 10,000 times – it’s important.

You will probably find yourself looking both ways out of confusion anyway, at least until you get a grip on the directional change of traffic, let alone some of the other unknown traffic “laws”.

Here are 6 more practical tips will help you cross traffic and noisy streets, but also give you a sense of accomplishment at the troublesome (and often intimidating) feat:

1. Follow The Leader

Wait for a local, or better – a group of locals – to cross the street and then follow their lead. However, remember to remain several steps down traffic so that they take the first blow if the car doesn’t slow down or stop.

If you do not feel ready to make the crossing yet, simply watch the way locals go about street dodging will benefit you until you are ready to start dodging on your own.

2. The Fake Out

Hail a taxi, sounds easy enough, but here’s the catch – don’t catch it.

The cab will usually pull over for you (with a large fare in mind,) even if it means crossing three lanes. The key here is to not get into the cab, just simply cross in front of it. The cabbie will not be cross with you, more likely just confused.

Even if it only pulls over one lane, it gives you a one lane head start to the opposite curb.

3. Look Official

Hold out an ID and hand – or passport if you dare – look very important and determined and march right on through.

If the car does not stop, give the hood or trunk a nice hard rap with your knuckles. It will scare them a bit and they will often stop to make sure they didn’t hit you, but just keep on going.

A business suit or some sort of military-ish get up would increase the odds of this dodging technique. If you lack a suit or any sort of ID or badge, a strong hand and eye contact should do the trick.

4. Easy Does It

Walk slowly and at a steady pace, make eye contact with the drivers crossing one lane at a time. Having cars fly by you at a fast pace is an adventure in itself and may take some getting used to.

Just keep in mind that the drivers really don’t want to hit you. If traffic is stopped or moving slowly enough just go for it, but weave through thoughtfully.

5. The Boy (or Girl) Scout Effect

Find an elderly lady or young child to “help” across the street, whilst actually using them as a blocker/safety net; and if you both make it across the street together – congratulations, more good karma for you!

Be considerate of culture with this tip, it may not be customary for a male to touch or speak with an unknown female. To stay on the safe side, women should not approach an unknown man.

6. Scare Them Into Submission

When I was just a little girl walking to school I used to jump down off the sidewalk to “scare” the oncoming cars into thinking they would hit me. In reality I only just barely moved from the edge of the curb, but the sudden movement certainly caught the drivers attention and got me a honk or a dirty look.

This tip may or may not work abroad, and is not strongly recommended, but…I must admit – it is kind of fun.

*****

These six simple tips will hopefully help you get one step, or street, closer to seeing that museum, art gallery, church, mall, temple or shine.

Just remember to stay calm, use caution and keep your wits about you. No matter how overwhelming the traffic seems at first, crossing the road in foreign countries will become like second nature sooner than you think.

What are your tricks for crossing streets safely? Is pretending to jump into traffic really a good idea? Let’s start a conversation below!

Laura Wilcox Ambrey, from Seattle, WA, holds a Journalism degree from WSU. On May 5, 2007 she married the boy next door and left for Singapore the next day. She and her husband have been traveling ever since (with no plans yet to head stateside).

When I first arrived in Tokyo, I was sick, lost, and alone. I was also fifteen years old.

This was my first of many extended trips for work (I’m a model) and the decision to travel solo had been made at the last minute.

That evening, when I got off the bus in the wrong place after a severely delayed 13-hour flight, I had second thoughts, but ultimately traveling alone as a teenager turned out to be a seminal part of my youth.

Life in Tokyo was full of hurdles: navigating the subway, deciphering food labels and getting through the day without committing some grave faux pas. I was working, too, so rather than simply being a tourist, I actively participated in the society.

Working meant that on top of basic self-sufficiency I had to collaborate and communicate with Japanese colleagues. At an age when many can scarcely get to work at the Gap on time, I suddenly had to meet life’s challenges on my own.

Growing Up

Some travel skills I learned by trial and error, but overall I was surprised by my own competency. Travel quickly showed me just what, and how much, I was capable of doing by myself.

I became emotionally self-sufficient, too. A photographer once asked me if I missed my family, and when I replied that I did, he said “You love your family, but you need to learn to be at peace by yourself.”

At the time the comment bugged me – I didn’t want to be told how to feel. But later I realized that he was right. My homesickness never subsided, but I learned to accept that I missed my home and family, and move beyond that homesickness to become whole as an individual.

Open to Interpretation

At the same time, the vulnerability I felt being away from home for the first time made me hyper-aware of the fascinating new world around me.

I examined everything: objects, clothing, building, customs. The first thing I noticed was difference. Who knew there were so many ways to look at the same things?

I noticed that aesthetics are very important in Japan (everything from manhole covers to warning signs are made to be admired) and that almost no one wears hats.

Then I started to notice more subtle characteristics of the culture, like the avoidance of saying no: my Japanese acquaintances greatly preferred the term “maybe.” They also thanked people effusively for even the slightest favor.

I realized that everything from pace of life to social priorities to job preferences was open to interpretation.

A Global Classroom

I ran across few other Americans, but was surrounded by people from all other parts of the world, exposing me to even more alternative perspectives.

Conversations were speckled, if not centered on, comparisons of our home countries and native ways of doing things, be it sentence structure or the traditional age of marriage.

Not surprisingly, I learned a lot about the driver’s licenses, school systems, and age related legislation of various countries, and gained a whole new appreciation for the dominance of American entertainment, stores, and fads.

Following the promptings of my guidebook I frequently found myself in museums, and came to realize that I like art, in a way that has never resonated with me before. Away and alone, I strolled through the aisles, talking to no one and paying attention to nothing but the artwork. I settled into a quasi-meditative state of mind in which the artwork seemed to hit a raw nerve.

At the same time I was taking in large amounts of historical data. I absorbed the history of the Shoguns and became quite versed in the Meji Emperorship. I saw Kabuki performances, though I had no idea what the characters were saying, and visited countless shrines and temples.

Question Everything!

Unfamiliarity and solitude are a great incubator for thought. With my new exposure to such a wide variety of outlooks I had to think about and question many things which had previously seemed concrete.

I was struck by differences in public policy; how come some countries have universal health care while others do not? Why is college astronomically expensive in the U.S.? Why are bike riding and letting children walk to school alone considered so dangerous in my native New York, while both are commonplace in Tokyo?

Japanese people seemed, overall, to be high achievers, placing a heavy emphasis on academic and professional success. Life was faster here than in the States, and busier too.

Noticing such difference led me to ask myself important questions:

• What is important to me?
• How do I want to live?
• Where do I belong?

I benefited from my youthfulness in that traveling didn’t just make me think, “Wow, there are so many ways of life out there.” Instead, experiencing foreign cultures while perched at the beginning of adulthood, everything I saw was still possible for me to apply to my own life.

All too often I hear older adults lamenting time spent on dead-end tracks to supposed success; traveling in my adolescence has shown me from the start the full range of what life has to offer.

The exposure to foreign cultures that I gained early on preempted my cultural biases and “us and them” thinking, and liberated me from the notion that there is only one right way of doing things.

Discover The World…And Yourself

Traveling is about discovery and finding oneself, for people of any age. But when you travel as a young person, you’re raw material, constantly being shaped, and all that you see, hear, and do has a profound impact on the rest of your life.

At my age, people like to say, you’re naive, not yet disillusioned about the world, and think that “because it feels right” is a suitable reason for action.

Well, what better attitude to maintain as you explore the world? We teens see the world as a limitless opportunity. When you travel, that’s the way it truly is.

Are the teenage years a good time to travel? Share your experiences and opinions by leaving a comment below!

Celine Joiris writes and works as a fashion model in her native New York City. She has lived and worked in Tokyo, Paris, Sydney, London, Hamburg and Seattle between the ages of fifteen and her current eighteen, and juiced every moment of it.

I press my tongue against a tooth in the back of my mouth. It wiggles.

“That’s weird,” I think, feeling a little anxious. After all, I’m 25 years old. My baby teeth are all gone and I’m way too young to start thinking about dentures.

I reach into my mouth, grab the loose molar between two fingers and give it a slight, tentative tug.

Oh shit – it’s barely attached to my gum. Even worse, the tooth next to it is also loose. What on earth is going wrong with me?!

Suddenly, all of my teeth start falling out! The coppery taste of blood covers my tongue! In a panic I…wake up.

My heart is pounding, but my teeth are firmly in place. It was only a dream.

The Dream Of Travel

Travel can sometimes feel like a dream. When you’re jet-lagged and wandering the misty streets of a strange city at dawn, it can be hard to tell whether you’re actually awake. A good hard pinch is often the only way to know for sure.

A great deal has been written about the dreamlike state of travel. But what about real dreams? Do travelers dream differently when they’re on the road?

I think the answer is yes. Dreams are a way for our minds to process information, and the onslaught of new sensations we encounter while traveling means that our dreams become correspondingly more vivid and intense.

Here are five archetypal dreams that travelers may experience:

1. Loss Of Control

The dream I describe above about one’s teeth falling out is a classic “loss of control” dream. Without teeth we are as helpless as infants, powerless and dependent upon others.

Traveling in a foreign country can also make us feel helpless. Without speaking the language or understanding the culture, we are unable to communicate. The horrifying tooth dream is a reflection of this feeling of powerlessness.

Another “loss of control” dream that I’ve experienced while traveling is driving a car and suddenly realizing that the pedals are out of reach. (Anyone who has survived a moto-taxi ride in Phnom Penh can sympathize).

2. Home Sweet Home

You wake up in your own bed, go downstairs, make coffee and read the local paper at the kitchen table. Your parents are already up, eating their breakfast, and your dog comes over for a pat on the head.

Everything is blissful and happy…until you wake up and find yourself back in the ratty hostel in Uzbekistan. Crap. Home is a long, long way away.

Dreaming idealized visions of home is not uncommon when traveling, especially if you’re already feeling a bit homesick. This sort of dream is a symptom of culture shock, which afflicts all travelers from time to time.

Although waking up in a strange place after dreaming vividly of home can be a miserable feeling, it’s important to realize that homesickness is a natural part of travel.

Plus, although you’ll no doubt have countless mornings at home to look forward to, you probably won’t ever come back to Uzbekistan, so get outside and enjoy the day!

3. Speaking In Tongues

If you speak in a foreign language while dreaming, it’s a sure sign that you’re beginning to feel at home in your new environment and culture.

Dreams are perhaps the most intimate, personal and unguarded moments of our day to day lives, and if a foreign language enters into your dreams it means that a new place has penetrated to the depths of your sub-conscious.

This is good news for ex-pats and longterm travelers, because getting in tune with the local culture and speaking the local language is key to getting over culture shock and experiencing a genuine sense of place.

For travelers with limited time, however, dreaming in a foreign language might be a sign that it’s time to move on to the next destination!

4. I’m Flying!

You jump into the air, come back to earth and jump again – the ground is as springy as a trampoline. One more jump and suddenly you feel a resistance under your arms. Pushing off, you rise into the air. You’re flying, and the only thing you can think is why didn’t I learn how to do this earlier!

The flying dream is one of the most intensely pleasurable dreams a traveler can hope to experience. It signifies total freedom, self confidence and the opening of new horizons.

These are exactly the sensations that travelers hit the road to find, so if you’re lucky enough to enjoy a flying dream it’s a clear sign that your travels are sending you on the right path.

5. The Sex Dream

I’ll resist the temptation to go into descriptive detail about sex dreams. Suffice to say that travelers are not immune to the occasional embrace with tangled sheets and an unfortunate pillow.

For those unlucky enough to travel without their romantic partner by their side, travel can mean suffering through a significant dry-spell. In this case, a sex dream is a clear sign that it’s time to get home, before dreams grow into a temptation to stray in reality.

For single travelers, a sex dream is also a sign – to drop the pillow and get out and meet people already! Although some cultures may frown on pre-marital flings, a hook-up with a fellow traveler is always a potential option.

What dreams have you experienced while traveling? Leave a description below and BNT’s resident fortune teller and psycho-analyst Tim Patterson will give you an interpretation.

BNT contributing editor Tim Patterson travels with a sleeping bag and pup tent strapped to the back of his folding bicycle. His articles and travel guides have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, Get Lost Magazine, Tales Of Asia and Traverse Magazine. Check out his Matador profile.

It’s that glorious time now when I wake up early on a Saturday to shuffle through the travel-sphere’s best of the week. Enjoy!

Robin Esrock takes you on a culinary journey through some surprisingly delicacies from around around the planet.

Four words: Tetris Ice Cube Maker. Brilliant.

A car that runs on compressed air? Get’s over 100 gas-equivalent mpg and over 90 mph, has zero to low C02 emissions, seats six? Check this out. That’s almost as amazing as the tetris ice cubes.

In true “ridiculously long link post roundup style” have a read of Go Green Travel Green’s Ultimate Packing List.

Spread good karma with Vagabondish’s 5 Simple Ways to Be Kind To Your Fellow Traveler

Gaze upon the World’s 16 Least Inspiring Flags.

And for inspiration, view The Best Travel Photographs of 2007 (as chosen by The Independent).

Enjoy the weekend!

Ian MacKenzie is editor of Brave New Traveler. Aside from writing, he spends his time exploring the fundamental nature of existence and wishing he did more backpacking.

The last 16 months of my life have been spent wandering.

After graduating from college, like many of my peers I had no real clue as to what to do with my life. I did what anyone with an insatiable travel bug would do and took off to an exotic destination to teach English.

The exotic destination quickly turned into a mundane daily rhythm that was full of obstacles, frustrations and existential questions. At the end of my contract, the travel-bug and existential questions were still there. I kept traveling.

I struggled to define myself. Was I a vagabond? An unemployed 20-something with no future?

Some people made me feel like I needed to define a goal for myself, so that all this traveling and wandering would lead to something concrete. In trying to quell their concerns, I realized that I really didn’t have an answer about my goals.

Three continents, several undeveloped rolls of film and one minor leg burn later, I’ve learned that what I was doing all of this time was defining myself as a human being; in finding my niche as a traveler I was learning how I wanted to live.

Now, as I try to establish a normal routine in my home country, I hold onto lessons from the road. They are my support system, reminding me of who I am and where I have been.

Here are 4 of the most important life lessons I learned while traveling.

1. Focus on the “now”

When the path ahead of us is unclear, it’s easy to question what we are doing with our lives. Western society teaches us that we should go to school and get on a career path.

But some of us want some time off in between school and careers. Yes, we all want great jobs where we feel good about the work we do, but some of us want to postpone, and in some cases escape, the 9-5 lifestyle.

For those of us destined to walk down this path, it’s inevitable that others will ask questions:

• “So what exactly are you doing on this trip?”
• “What do you expect to do when you get back?”
• “Don’t you have a five year plan?”

These are all questions that you do not need to have an answer to – remember that it’s OK to just travel for the sake of travel.

There is plenty of time in life to follow schedules and make five year plans, but traveling is about taking a breather from high intensity, stressful society and relearning how to focus on the present. This teaches you to deal with life on a day to day basis.

2. Embrace the ordinary

Being open to possibility is the only thing that allows us to move forward. Often we find that the reality of travel is very different from our dreams. Yet without those illusions about the traveling lifestyle, we may never have had the courage to hit the road in the first place.

Talk to anyone who has studied, traveled or worked abroad and they will tell you about the difference between glamorous expectations and normal everyday routines.

When we travel for extended periods of time we see that not everything is as exotic first thought. Television ads in a foreign country may seem weird as long as we hear them in that foreign language, but as soon as we get a sense of the language, the ads seem as absurd as anything at home.

Long-term travel is not about constantly seeking the extraordinary, but coming to terms with the ordinary itself. It’s about learning to appreciate the simpler moments that everyday life offers.

3. Push your comfort levels

Traveling is about breaking out of our own personal boundaries. No matter the length of time, be it one week or a whole year, just being in a new place forces us to push ourselves.

We are obliged to memorize a string of strange sounding words just to order a simple coffee, master new public transportation systems, learn how to use unfamiliar toilets and ask for directions by way of body language, pictures and the common language of laughter.

In new places we want to be able to handle the situation, and so we force ourselves to learn.

Returning home after a trip often seems boring compared to our recent experiences; because in a new place we are constantly succeeding in conquering new situations. Recreating that feeling is therefore a matter of finding situations that push us as human beings, be it with a job, seeking knowledge or in our personal relationships.

4. Stay flexible

If travel teaches us anything at all, it’s that an itinerary can change at the drop of a hat. Buses break down, hurricanes roll in and travelers get sick.

Being a good traveler means always having a backup plan or being ready to think of one. My difficulty with the five year plan was because I am always ready to do something different.

In our travels we can never predict the future, and the same holds true for our “regular” lives back at home. Staying flexible allows us to achieve what we truly believe in even if that means sailing off course.

It allows us to push our boundaries and move beyond what we, and others, think is possible.

What life lessons have you learned through travel? Please contribute to the discussion by leaving a comment below!

Anna Brones has a love of culture, foreign languages and good food. When she is not on an adventure she spends quality time in her native Pacific Northwest. Her writing has appeared in Transitions Abroad, A Woman’s World Again and Matador Travel. Her personal travel writing endeavors can be found at Intercrossings.

The years I’ve spent traveling and living abroad have made a radical impact on my world-view and shaped me into who I am today: someone who strives to make the world a better place.

I don’t hesitate to say that this is a common occurrence, and if you’re reading Brave New Traveler, you already subscribe to the belief that travel results in a deeper understanding of our global situation.

But aside from the intangible awareness and enlightenment brought about by traveling, there’s now a new reality to contend with: the global tourism boom has contributed dramatically to global warming.

Earlier this year, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change reported that aviation currently makes up 3 percent of global carbon emissions, but the rate is increasing.

Then there’s the nitrous oxide emitted by planes, which is twice as bad as carbon dioxide for global warming, and the vapor trails, whose contribution to climate change is still unknown.

Facing Hard Facts

The response to this report in Europe was dramatic: protesters converged upon Heathrow and other airports to demand that airlines take action on climate change.

Mark Ellingham, publisher of Rough Guide, pledged to take the train. British mogul Richard Branson is offering a $25 million reward to whoever “solves” global warming.

I consider myself in the upper percentile of Americans when it comes to concern over global warming. I strive to minimize my carbon footprint as much as one can while living in a major city.

Conservation International rates me an “Eco Warrior” scoring 81 out of 100 points (the average score being 44); though Earthday.net still points out that if everyone lived like me, we’d need 2.4 planets in order to survive.

The connection between global warming and flying didn’t truly hit me until this summer when I had the opportunity to travel. As I made my plans (last minute, as always), one question loomed in my mind: could I do this trip without flying?

Could I keep my carbon emissions low?

Now looking back on the summer of travel, the answer is sadly, but conclusively: No.

The Breakdown

I had every good intention not to fly, but here’s how those good intentions paved my own personal road to global warming hell:

• Leg One, Seattle to Minneapolis – Thirty-six hours by train, or a three hour flight. I have a deadline in Minneapolis. TIME. I fly.
• Leg Two: Minneapolis to New York City – I have time for the train, but it’s only $50 more to fly. PRICE. I fly.
• Leg Three: New York to Syracuse – My girlfriend surprises me with a train ticket, but the train is an hour late. This doesn’t bother us, but it highlights another shortcoming of rail travel: PUNCTUALITY. Amtrak is notoriously late, often by several hours. If they can time watches in Germany to the trains, why can’t they do so in the US? The answer is subsidies, but that’s a whole new article.
• Leg Four: New York to Havana – I briefly contemplate adding the logistical challenge of taking the train to Miami with the required puddle-jump to Havana before I find a flight to Cancun for $180. EASE: I fly.
• Leg Five: Havana to Mexico City – I was determined to fly back to Cancun and bus it to Mexico City, when I discovered that for only $45 more, I could fly all the way to Mexico City. Time, price and ease push me onto the plane.
• Leg Six: Mexico City to Seattle – I spend a day calculating that five days of travel and $300 will take me home overland. An hour later I find a ticket for $240.

The fact that flying will result in a ton of CO2 emitted into the atmosphere, instead of a quarter that much by taking buses, won’t sink in for two more months when I analyze the environmental impact of my trip.

At the moment, I’m getting homesick, and once again opt to fly.

Hooked On Air Travel

The developed world has dug ourselves into a global warming hole: we’ve spoiled ourselves with ridiculously cheap air tickets and expect to travel inhuman distances almost instantaneously.

Furthermore, the US has somehow managed to squander its transportation infrastructure,
limiting options to flying, driving, and two monopolies: Amtrak and Greyhound.

Being a semi-urban hippy, the Nature Conservancy calculates that I emit just over the world average of eleven tons of CO2 a year. My summer vacation of flying, however, boosted that number to seventeen.

All this is well under the average for Americans (53 tons), but it’s more than enough to be part of the problem. And that’s the more positive of assessments.

Getting Serious About Climate Change

I hate using hyperbole: I think it’s unprofessional and turns people off instead of getting them to listen. But, when the IPCC is desperate enough to say that the effects of global warming are “irreversible” and “like a science fiction movie,” I know they’re at wits end – and these are the top scientists in the world.

At the same time, U.S. politicians are slowly beginning to wonder if maybe this global climate change thing is actually for real.

Looking into the impact of my travel has resulted in a lot of navel-gazing: I’m a selfish, piggish American who puts being pampered (ie. flying great distances for very little money) over the plight of the world. I’m everything I strive not to be.

But now I want to look on the bright side. We now know, Brave New Travelers, traveling has an undeniable adverse affect on global warming.

What can we do? Your thoughts are important. Let’s start a discussion below!

Chris LaRoche is almost a teacher, sort of a writer, and humbly an activist. He has written social justice articles for Real Change News and yuppie restaurant reviews. His summer in Cuba can be read at seattlecuba.blogspot.com. He lives in Seattle but will always call Montana home.