Feature photo by Bob Milsom. Photo above by dnhoshor.

Mark Twain

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

Writer of The Great American Novel (or one of them), friend to presidents and royalty alike, Twain chronicled his journeys through Europe and the Middle East in his best selling work, The Innocents Abroad and then again in the follow up, A Tramp Abroad.

Twain succinctly captured the importance of spreading one’s wings when he famously said, “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.”

Interestingly enough, despite the huge critical success of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Innocents Abroad was the best-selling work of Twain’s lifetime.

Maya Angelou

I do know, however, that being exposed to the existence of other languages increases the perception that the world is populated by people who not only speak differently from oneself, but whose cultures and philosophies are other than one’s own.

In Wouldn’t Take Nothing for My Journey Now American poet Maya Angelou named travel as the one hope we have to recognize “that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die.”

She believed that if we could recognize these shared experiences, we would be more likely to “understand each other [and] even become friends.” How often have you looked around a café, pub, or park in a foreign country, and realized this is so very true?

Photo by Urbanworld Film Festival.

Margaret Mead

As the traveler who has once been from home is wiser than he who has never left his own doorstep, so a knowledge of one other culture should sharpen our ability to scrutinize more steadily, to appreciate lovingly, our own.

One of the biggest rewards of traveling is developing a deeper understanding of your own home as you adjust to the patterns and realities of other cultures.

Margaret Mead, an American anthropologist best known for her book, Coming of Age in Samoa, reminds us that when we sharpen our ability to observe another culture, we’ll also be able to apply that level of perception and appreciation to our own roots.

Samuel Johnson

Every nation has something peculiar in its manufactures, its works of genius, its medicines, its agriculture, its customs, and its policy. He only is a useful traveler, who brings home something by which his country might be benefited; who procures some supply of want, or some mitigation of evil, which may enable his readers to compare their condition with that of others, to improve it whenever it is worse, and whenever it is better to enjoy it.

In a 1760 column for The Idler, English writer Samuel Johnson identified one of the richest rewards of traveling: applying new knowledge of different ways of life in a way that benefits your own country. Even if it’s only on a small scale, both you and those around you are all the richer for it.

Photo by Tara Chambers.

Rosalia de Castro

I see my path, but I don’t know where it leads. Not knowing where I am going is what inspires me to travel it.

The best time to travel is always in the moment. And even if it means you don’t know where you’re heading, it is not knowing that makes it so much more exciting. Rosalia de Castro, Galician poet and writer, understood it is the unknown path that is the most inspiring one. After all, if you don’t know where you’re going, you can’t get lost.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

The history of literature and philosophy is filled with writers whose thoughts on travel remain relevant today. Check out 5 Eastern Thinkers Who Understood Inner Travel and 5 Western Thinkers Who Understood Inner Travel for some of their timeless, universal ideas.

Photo above by Humayunn N A Peerzaada

At the core of Slumdog Millionaire is the question: Have our lives already been written before us, or do we ultimately influence our destiny? The answers to the question unfold against a vibrant and colorful, but often raw geographical and human landscape in which India is as much a character as the protagonist, Jamal.

At last week’s Golden Globes, director Danny Boyle (whose past work includes The Beach , a polarizing film amongst travelers), picked up the best drama and best director awards for his tale of Indian slum dweller Jamal Malik, who finds himself one question away from winning the TV quiz show, “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?”

Photo above by babasteve

But before possibly walking away with the prize money, the nation’s hearts, and even the love of his life, Jamal has to endure torture at the hands of Mumbai’s brutal police, who believe he cheated at the game. The suspicious inspector asks, “How could a slumdog know the answers to those questions?”

The answer: Destiny.

“I knew I’d find you in the end. It’s our destiny.”

Under interrogation, Jamal tells the inspector his incredible life story. None of the young boy’s experiences from childhood to this moment, sitting handcuffed in a chair, are of his own doing. In fact, all Jamal ever did was simply survive as life propelled him from one life threatening or life affirming experience to the next. As we come to realise, though, there was greater meaning to it all.

Underlying the story of Jamal’s life are questions that affect us all: Are our lives really mapped out for us? Does everything happen for a reason? Surely our lives aren’t pre-determined; we shape them through our decisions. Choice, not chance…right?

These are questions with particular resonance for travelers, who know that the momentary decision to go one way or the other will change one’s journey– and even one’s life–and nothing is likely to be the same again. We can’t leave such meaningful decisions to the heavens; we’re in control. Or are we?

Photo above by Meanest Indian

A Nation of Apparent Contradictions

You’ll ponder these questions throughout Jamal’s story, but the real subtext of this film is India. Danny Boyle’s visceral film-making drops you right into the streets. Filming hand-held, guerrilla style, on location, Boyle conveys the the beauty and extremes of India–from dilapidated Mumbai shantytowns and endless garbage-strewn landfills to exhilarating train journeys and colorful mass riverside laundrettes– in an intimate way.

‘You don’t take [Mumbai] for granted, ” Boyle said in an interview promoting the film. “You know nothing about how it assaults your senses. For a dynamic film-maker like myself, it’s everything I could ever want.”

That “everything” includes characters. By setting Jamal and his narrative among the country’s lowlifes, degenerates, innocents, and angels, Boyle ensures that Jamal’s experiences shock and inspire viewers in equal measure.

“I think one of the reasons the film seems to work for people is that it is very extreme,” Boyle said. “That’s what they have there. You’ve got to portray it as an extreme experience. Everything is full-on.”

“It’s a tough place! There’s a lot of poor people living there leading very tough lives. You’ve got portray that accurately. There are beggars who have been crippled deliberately to make them better beggars. You’ve got to get your head around that.”

“You get it rougher in India at the moment,” concluded Boyle, Empire. “….[I]t allows you to tell a story like this.”

Photo above by AshuGarg

Final Answer?

Beyond raising questions of destiny and beautifully portraying Mumbai’s darker side, “Slumdog Millionaire” is also likely to help travelers reflect on their own experiences of India.

Feature photo by eric dickman. Photo above by matsukawa1971.

The week went like this: on Tuesday I was sipping red wine, discussing philosophy and the human condition as I drove through the fields of France. By Thursday I was guzzling light beer on the back of a pick-up, debating The Simpsons or Family Guy as I cruised around the cow pie-splattered pastures of Nevada.

The fact that within the span of three days I had such diverse experiences in such far-flung locations speaks to both the marvel of modern travel and to the irrevocable, unwavering melancholy I always feel at the conclusion of a big trip.

Travel is my addiction. My heroin. And when I’m nearing the end of an especially good fix, there’s not much that can save me from being bummed out.

And so, after this last (especially wonderful and thought provoking) trip around Europe, I was so totally in the dumps about being home that I did the unthinkable: I hung out with people from high school.

I know that sounds snobby, but for those of you that grew up in a small town like I did, then went to college just a stone’s throw away from said small town, then you might also take pride in the fact that since high school you’ve gone outside your comfort zone and scored new friends.

Photo by josephaskins.

I remember dorm move-in day. While kids from out of town were sizing each other up as possible bedmates, I was scampering around, looking for new friends. Didn’t matter if their faces were covered in piercings and they had a penchant for bands with names like “Cradle of Filth” — if they were from the out of state, or even better, The East Coast!, then I wanted them as My New Friend Not From My Hometown.

So I was surprised to find myself, after such a high-minded journey around Europe, back in the fields of my youth with the people of my formative years.

I had been wallowing around my apartment in a jet-lagged, “No one here understands me (dramatic sigh)!” stupor, when my old buddy Josh invited me to a pig roast. Apparently, he and our other friend Chad had bought two little pigs at the beginning of the summer, named them Wilbur and Petunia, and slaughtered them when they were good and fat.

They were going to roast Wilbur first, over a big pit they made on Josh’s brother’s ranch, sit around and play the guitar, mess around on the bongos, and did I want to come?

Wait a minute. This sounded suspiciously like something I’d want to be invited to while traveling. If someone in another country asked me to attend such a down home, laid back, authentic event, I wouldn’t dream of saying no. In fact, I would feel like I had really succeeded in getting off the tourist track.

So I said yes.

And I haven’t had as much fun in a long time.

Photo by nikoretro.

It wasn’t that anything especially crazy happened, or that it was some life-changing, life-affirming evening. We basically sat around the big pit, chanted like tribal people when we lowered Wilbur onto the fire, dared each other to walk on the flaming coals, sang songs and told stories.

I did three manly tricks for the first time: threw an axe, drove a quad, shot a gun-and this little trio of activities acted out in a Nevada grassland was as exhilarating as black water rafting in New Zealand and zorbing in Australia.

We named our cook-out Burning Pig, in honor of that most famous of festivals held annually in our state.

It was just a good time with good people. The type of people I would probably be thrilled to meet abroad.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

For more on the always-tough post-travel re-entry, check out The Hardest Part of a Journey is Coming Home, or Six Simple Ways to Beat the Post-Travel Blues.

Feature photo by Hazel Motes.

Most of us have seen the movie Fight Club. When it hit theaters in 1999 with an unbelievably carved Brad Pitt and ingeniously beleaguered Ed Norton, author Chuck Palahniuk found himself with a giant, rabid, new fan base dedicated to Tyler Durden and his philosophy.

Avowing anti-consumerist ideas and an explosive refusal of passive acceptance, Durden led the other characters into a violent awakening and encouraged audiences’ vicarious participation.

Whether leaving the theater or flipping the last page of the book, viewers and readers alike were left with the stinging thematic message: “This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.”

For travelers, this message has been the underlying pulse humming in the background of every flight, ticket, hostel, and trek.

Subtle, but never forgotten, the drive to make the most out of life is the communal thread linking backpackers, flashpackers, travelers, and adventure-seekers alike.

Ten years later, Tyler Durden’s philosophy still has a lot to teach us about travel:

“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.”

Photo by Marko Bucik.

This is less about wiping our slates clean of all accomplishments, relationships, or manufactured goods, and more about cutting free from the obsessive attachment supported and fed by modern consumerist and business culture.

When we board that plane or get that visa stamped, we are instantly reminded that we are fundamentally free beings. We are free to go where we want and do what we want. Our car payments do not dictate our life choices.

Travel shows us that we’re free to do anything. We can stomp grapes in Italy, surf in Costa Rica, or fire dance in Thailand. We just need to make that choice. Freedom is inherent in travel and imperative in Fight Club.

“You’re not your job. You’re not how much money you have in the bank. . . You’re not your fucking khakis.”

In the shuffle of seductive television ads, competitive social comparisons, and overbearing societal barometers telling us just how far in life we should be, we tend to misplace our own identities.

We measure our feelings of self worth on how shiny and new the plastic of our recent purchase is. We define ourselves by the brands we wear or don’t wear. We allow automated computer programs to categorize our likes and dislikes for us.

Travel reminds us who we are and what we aren’t. We aren’t jobs, currency, automobiles, or textiles. And that’s never more clear than when drifting down the river in a bamboo raft on a sunny day. We’re never more in touch with our identity than when we’re navigating the streets of a new city whose language we can’t understand, using a map we can’t read.

We can be nothing but ourselves when we travel. And we should always remember that.

“People do it everyday, they talk to themselves… they see themselves as they’d like to be, they don’t have the courage you have, to just run with it.”

Travel takes courage and teaches us courage. Many are afraid to step outside their comfort zones and be without an anchor in the familiar.

As travelers, our bravery is continually challenged. Whether it is packing up all our belongings to move to another country or joining in a cliff diving session during a summer trip, travel is relentlessly asking more of us and testing what we’re made of.

But once we’re there, flying over borders or off the cliff’s edge, the rewards are immense. We are no longer seeing ourselves as we’d like to be; we are becoming the people we’d like to be. And that feeling is incomparable.

“I say never be complete, I say stop being perfect, I say… let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may.”

Every new trip breeds new understanding. We see new landscapes, meet different people, gather new experiences. Travel helps us further along our intellectual, psychological, and emotional evolution.

Travel reminds us that life isn’t a series of boxes to be checked off or a succession of requisite motions. We are alive to be alive, learning growing and along the way. Everything else is minutiae.

Stop being perfect. It is more important to be evolved.

As with travel, Fight Club warns us to never lose sight of the essential. It’s easy to get hustled along on a guided path, but much more satisfying to forge your own way. As travelers, we need to keep in mind these reasons and our goals for why we travel.

And always remember, “This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time.”

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

For a list of other movies that have changed travelers’ lives, check out “The Red Pill: 10 Films Guaranteed to Blow Your Mind.”

Feature photo and photo above by Robin Esrock.

Picture me, sitting in a black leather chair with a fluffy bunny tail sewed onto the backrest.

A drop-dead gorgeous waitress is dressed like Alice in Wonderland, serving a group of girls with a stuffed teddy bear at the head of the table. The décor is purple velvet, with private mirrored booths cloaked behind thick curtains.

My pint glass is lit from above by a 10 foot desk lamp, and the girls are chattering away like grannies at a late-night dungeon tea party. It’s innocent and perverse and culturally extreme.

This is Tokyo through the looking glass.

It’s tough not to feel like someone has turned the cultural sweater inside out. The brands are all here– Prada, Gucci, KFC, McDonald’s– but they’re re-imagined, adapted for a country that is… different. Hence, shrimp burgers and sky rise Prada stores.

Photo by Robin Esrock.

Bigger, brighter, bolder, in creative directions the west might not handle. Take the Elvises. Every Sunday for over a dozen years, these guys have dressed up in black leather, slicked back their hair, and danced to 50’s rock n’ roll. They do this in Yoyogi Park, publicly, and they bust their moves all day, rain or shine.

A few yards from them, another group has started, and this brewing park side rivalry has all the makings of a West Side Story. We call this theater, but in Tokyo, this is life.

Further along the path, young rock bands are performing for their enthusiastically supportive girlfriends. They are so close together that the music blends into one distorted punk-folk-Japanese-pop-metal-ballad. My stomach grumbles, so I pick up a chicken yakitori stick from a street vendor, which cost $5. Next time, I’ll let my stomach grumble, because street food anywhere shouldn’t cost $5.

The contradictions perfectly sum up modern Tokyo.

Here, there’s nothing you have to see, and subsequently nothing to get disappointed about when you see it. Of course, with a city that has double the population of Scandinavia, there’s no shortage of sights.

Like the deafening pachinko parlors, in which little metal balls are fed into digital machines as a form of approved gambling. Or the Ginzu district on the weekend, when the main thoroughfare is turned into a pedestrian mall, complete with garden furniture and with tarmac scrubbed so clean you can eat off it.

Photo by Robin Esrock.

Shibuya has that famous intersection where thousands of people gather every few minutes to cross the road, rapidly dispersing when the traffic light changes. Most are carrying shopping bags from high-end western stores, although how they afford to buy this stuff is a mystery to me. Without a doubt, Tokyo is the most expensive city I’ve come across.

It makes London and New York prices seem positively reasonable: $6 just to get into a cab, $10 for a drink in a cheap bar, $120 for a haircut, $550 a month for parking. The price of small things, like batteries, or toothpaste, shocked me more than the $80 entrée restaurants or $400 t-shirts.

All of this, I have to confess, is fantastic. Although it represents the pinnacle of hyper-commercialism and brand consumerism, Tokyo is unique. I felt like a complete alien, which, honestly, can be one of the most rewarding joys of traveling. Without my generous hosts, friends working in Tokyo, I would be lost, broke, dazed and confused, sleeping in a capsule and foraging through yesterday’s budget bento boxes. The opportunity to see this whacked-out planet, on my budget, was music to my ears.

Fortunately, you don’t have to hear my music in your ears. No visit to Tokyo is complete without karaoke, which is taken more seriously than Canadians take ice hockey. Themed rooms are hired by the hour, costing anywhere between $40 and $5000, although I just made that last figure up. You can sing from jacuzzis, swimming pools, bedrooms, bars, coffins and bubbles.

Photo by Robin Esrock.

If you can think of something bizarre, someone in Tokyo is doing it.

Tokyo also has historical contrasts, and this is where you see those quintessential Japanese photos of temples, shrines and little girls dressed in kimonos. To get to the Meiju Jinku Temple, you have to walk past the Harujuku Girls, through a beautiful forest, and into the wooden complex full of calligraphy, lanterns, gongs, and everything else Japan.

The attention to detail, the level of service and the pride of work here filters through all facets of society. At the bank, a representative ran from her desk to the counter to help me. Ran! Taxi drivers smile and nod and turn off the meter when they get lost. The efficiency is unnerving.

While they have taken so many parts of the west and are clearly fascinated with American culture in particular, the Japanese have added their quirks and customs to create this bizarre culture unlike any I’ve ever seen before. The balance of progress and tradition, politeness and hostility, and rules and deviance make Tokyo the most fascinating city on the planet.

Feature photo by Mystic200. Photo above by Steven Fernandez.

In Morocco in 1999, I fell for a guy who was gorgeous: piercing blue eyes, an amazing smile, and a dusty backpack. I was madly in love with him. But as it turned out, he was manipulative, abusive, and horrible.

You don’t see a lot of information about how to deal with terrible relationships when you’re on the road – it’s all about love-sunsets-beautiful-backdrops-for-our-never-ending-amour.

So what do you do when you’re 19, far from home, and subjected to abuse?

Standard anti-abuse messages focus on physical and sexual abuse, leaving adolescents mostly unaware of what constitutes emotional abuse; yet more women are emotionally abused than physically abused by their male partners. And emotional abuse often leads to physical abuse and sexual assault.

Emotions run high on the road and the nature of travel means you’re often separated from your support group. Be open to new experiences, but also be aware that not every experience will be a good one. Be trusting, but remember that not everyone is worthy of trust. Remember that emotional abuse can be as damaging as physical abuse.

Signs of Emotional Abuse

Photo by KoAn La Scrivana.

The same signs of abuse occur when you’re in Tuscany as when you’re at home:

• Does your partner try to control your actions or feelings?
• Does your partner belittle or insult you, or use threats to coerce you into doing what he wants?
• Do you get mixed messages, like he is only hurting you because he loves you so much?
• Do your needs and wants always come second?

Doubt and Responsibility

It is easy to doubt yourself, especially if you haven’t had a lot of experience with relationships before. An abuser may cause you to doubt yourself and your desires, and require your constant, unwavering attention.

Healthy partnerships, while requiring some amount of compromise, do not involve constant giving in. You should feel loved and supported, not uncertain. Relationships are built on trust and communication; if something happens that hurts you, that your partner refuses to talk about, or denies, this can also be a sign of abuse.

You are not responsible for someone else’s happiness. Only your own.

Just because you have watched the sun rise from the first class coach on the midnight train to Bangladesh, or ridden an elephant in the jungles of Borneo together, that does not mean your new sweetie is absolved if he starts acting like a jerk. Jerks are jerks wherever they are and wherever you meet them.

COMMUNITY CONNECTION:

Traveling while also maintaining a relationship can be a tricky combination. Check out How To Beat the Back-Home Relationship Blahs or Hostel Love: Why Relationships On the Road Never Last.

Feature photo by Christopher Chan. Photo above by shimonkey.

How many times have I done this – 30, 40, or even 50 times?

It is simple, isn’t it? I wheel my bags to the airline ticket counter, show my ID to the agent, say goodbye to my friends and family, pass through security, find my gate, and away I go. Most of my international adventures have followed this same routine at the start.

But this simple trip to the airport often manifests many different thoughts and feelings.

Sometimes, what I bring to the airport is more than just baggage filled with clothes, toiletries, and books. Sometimes, the baggage is a bounty of emotions that forces me to perform a gut check, especially if the distance to be traveled stretches across the Atlantic.

“I can do this,” I say to myself. “I can separate myself from the people and a place that I love in order to fly thousands of miles and write yet another chapter of my life.”

I look at the people at the boarding gate and wonder what other chapters are also being written. The airport provides the most interesting of backdrops for someone who enjoys imagining other people’s stories.

There is amusing simplicity in sitting and watching your fellow travelers stroll by, guessing what their backgrounds are, what their homes look like, and what they might be feeling as boarding time approaches.

Photo by Giacomo P.

The young mother carrying a baby in a shoulder sling might be anxious for her parents to finally meet their first grandchild. The scruffy-faced teenager sporting a Lands End backpack could be returning home after a week of intense final exams.

Very often, there is also the traveler with a heavy heart, sad because of separation from a loved one.

The airport brings all these people together, reminding us that we are not alone on the journey. The emotions I feel are felt by everyone, and the paths we cross, albeit at different times, are quite often the same.

Every airport has this special role, acting as a crossroads for all of us.

It can mark the transition from one stage of our lives to another. At the airport, we seem to give ourselves permission to reflect on our past and ponder our future, without the distractions of daily routines. Here, we have a temporary reprieve from work, school, and family.

For those of us inclined to do so, reflection often leads us to ask why we are about to get on a plane to travel hundreds or thousands of miles away. Leaving family and friends is often a test. We are creatures of habit, are we not?

Photo by Hyougushi

We cling to the familiar – our comfy bed sheets, a favorite perfume on our significant other, or the ring tone we hear when our best friend calls.

Yet so much changes once we board the plane. New sights and sounds enter our world. We will make new friends; we will find a favorite new coffee shop; and there will be a new place to call home.

I’m at the airport and I know all of this from experience, but my stomach is still in knots; my insides clench, and I whisper, “Here we go.” Incredible experiences await: all I have to do is have faith in this first step, boarding the plane.

There they go. Passengers are starting to form a line at the gate. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re now ready to start boarding British Airways Flight 208, non-stop service to London Heathrow.”

Here I go….

What are your thoughts on the metaphor of the airport? Share your thoughts in the comments!

Photo above by Nuuttipukki

What A Year for Travel!

In 2008, I climbed North America’s highest mountains, rolled down powder puff snow like a bear cub, swam in pristine lakes, sunbathed on the best beaches, met some of my heroes, encountered some wonderful animals, and socialised with Sasquatches.

That last one might have alerted you to the fact that it was no ordinary travel; in fact, my body never left the UK.

The travelling was all in my mind: virtual travel, that was nevertheless enjoyable.

With the world in the grip of a global recession and growing worries about human impact on the environment, there has never been a better time to travel virtually.

Mount Wilson, Nahanni National Park.
Photo above by Althewebmaster

Virtual travel is attractive for other reasons, too. On my virtual journeys, I could access any part of extraordinarily beautiful parks that I’d never even heard of before, such as the Nahanni National Park in Canada’s Northwest Territories. Cold lakes weren’t off limits, and traveling vast distances could be accomplished with a little shape-shifting.

I didn’t need a visa, and I didn’t worry about losing my stuff or running out of money.

I could relax while mentally climbing the highest mountains, running through cool forests, swimming in the most pristine lakes and seas, meeting strange animals and mythical creatures.

I also wrote blogs about some of my trips, and it felt good to be paying homage to them.

Emerald Lake in British Columbia, Canada
Photo above by panduh

The Idea

The idea of virtual travel came to me after I learnt to remember the six big provinces of Canada from west to east as BASMOQ (British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, Ontario, and Quebec).

I thought that if I virtually travelled across North America forming such acronyms over the course of a year, then I should be able to remember the locations of all the provinces, territories and states by year’s end.

Moreover, I would learn about the places through a little research. I’d have fun reading along the way and writing about my journeys afterwards.

Five Reasons to Try Virtual Travel

Why should you make the effort to travel virtually across a continent or countries of your choice? Five good reasons are:

• Visiting virtually is better than no visit at all.
• If you know you are going to go somewhere, then virtual travelling is a good way to start planning and imagining more about that place.
• As you research, you find yourself immersed in the place, and the mind enjoys finding out about the region.
• Sometimes the information you find affects your emotions, making you happy or sad, and pleased or angry, just like the knowledge you gain while travelling.
• You can encounter animals that you would not otherwise meet, even mythical creatures still a part of local folklore. You can interact with fictional characters, meet celebrities, or time-travel to find those from the past. This escapism is both entertaining and invigorating.

Bigelow Mountain, Appalachian Trail, Maine
Photo above by plfy

You might be thinking that it would be easier to just look at a map and a guidebook whenever you’re about to actually go somewhere. It might well be, but would it be as much fun, and would you remember as much about the places?

Moreover, are you sure you’re going to go there, or return to see the places you missed when you last travelled there?

I travelled across North America in 1993, but I didn’t get everywhere, and am unlikely to return to all the places I’d like to visit. I’ve flown over Newfoundland and Labrador, Maine and the Appalachians, but I’m unlikely to ever travel there on land.

Virtual travelling took me back, in mind at least. I put names to the places, found out about local industries, local celebrities, about their history and environment, and what animals can be seen.

The Means

I use Wikipedia to research each region. I also use Wiki maps and Google maps. Then I search for interesting places, events, people and animals in each province, territory and state and then set out the journey around them in my daily blog.

Discoveries and creations make the mental journey all the more rewarding, just as finding hidden gems in nooks and crannies of places you’d never even heard of does on real journeys.

At the start of the year, I rushed through my journeys. As I found myself enjoying the trips more and more, though, and taking time to find more and better information, I found myself learning more about the regions.

This discovery parallels real journeys, where you begin to slow down and appreciate things more after the initial excitement that comes with being free and independent.

Virtual travel isn’t meant to be a replacement for travelling, but it can be a useful mental stop-gap until your next journey, and you’ll have fun and learn a lot along the way. For the writers amongst you, I think it’s good practise for travel writing and fictional character development too.

Happy Trails!