tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14341262989715691132024-02-20T08:00:04.790-08:00Zen and the Art of Vagabonding Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-5124850173238857022015-12-05T02:30:00.000-08:002015-12-05T02:30:56.937-08:00On India<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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After three years of obsession - planning, saving,
discussing, looking at maps and reading books, my first, but not last, trip to
the mighty subcontinent is coming to a close. As I reflect on my journey, it
seems hard to imagine that I have fit this much life, and this many
experiences, into such a short amount of time. Since coming here, I have
learned:</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">About the real
consequences of volun-tourism </b></div>
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I have dedicated two whole posts to this, but it’s
worth mentioning again because it was perhaps one of the biggest lessons travel
has ever taught me. I learned how I react to entirely new situations, how I am
able to communicate without speaking the same language. The family I stayed
with in the village seemed so happy, and I learned that the cliché of “money
poor but life rich” is, in some way, very true. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">How to say No</b></div>
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The barrage of demands in India is constant “look my shop”
“rickshaw?” “here good price for you” “rickshaw??” “guesthouse?” “Rickshaw??
“photo?” “RICKSHAW???” India is crowded and pushy and saying yes to every
single request would leave a person drained and broke within a day. I've learn that it’s okay to be assertive and to stand up for yourself.
There is no room in this country for self-entitlement or coddling. As foreigners,
we are often treated as ignorant walking ATMs, and respect will only be given
if you demand it. More than any other place, India has taught me to be
assertive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">... And when to say
yes </b></div>
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Beyond the barrage of rickshaw drivers and touts, this place
also has beautiful, kind, and friendly people. I met a whole crew of young
Bangalorians who are artists and musicians and web designers. We took a trip together and bonded over jobs and travel and over-bearing parents. Had I
closed myself off to all that is native to India, I would have never met these
people, and would have missed out on having another place in the world where I
have friends. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">You are never alone
on the road </b></div>
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Since leaving the US on the September 1<sup>st</sup>, I can
think of exactly two days where I didn’t meet a new friend, or hang out with a
friend I had just made. On two difference occasions, I met people in one city
that I had met in another city, or people who I had friends in common with. The world
really is quite small, and if you are open and kind, the road is the easiest
place to make friends. It is a perpetual first day of college, but like in
college, I have met a few people I consider lifetime friends. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Some travelers
tricks.. </b></div>
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Always bring toilet paper</div>
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Pack less than you think you will need </div>
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Room prices are always negotiable </div>
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Taking five deep breathes give you time to process the chaos</div>
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<br /></div>
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<b>And Finally... </b></div>
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India has taught me that no matter how much you think you know, there is always room in learn something new in this vast, incredible, and beautiful world. <b> </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-1941390864347200022015-11-19T23:21:00.001-08:002015-11-19T23:21:34.304-08:00On Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This post was supposed to be a happy one, full of
intellectual waxing on travel philosophies or experiences. But when I returned
to cell service from a two-night stay in the jungle, I learned that the world
has, yet again, been filled with hate and violence. My first thoughts were for
my college friends living there, who, to my deep gratitude, are all safe. While
the attacks in Paris make my heart ache, what I am most ashamed of is the
reactions of my own countrymen. I am ashamed of their fear and ignorance,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> and of the proposals that are<a href="http://www.vox.com/policy-and-politics/2015/11/19/9760060/refugees-history-holocaust"> eerily similar to the rejection of German refugees in 1939</a>. </span>
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In a small attempt to push back against the hate filling the
world, I want to share with you the love I have tasted, heard, and felt from
Muslims around the world. I take this as proof that humanity can be kind
and good, and that goodness goes beyond our arbitrary divisions. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I have tasted love...</b></div>
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<br /></div>
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…while hiking along the Lycine way in Turkey, along a
particularly hot and steep road, after no breakfast and very little sleep.
About halfway up the hill, a car stopped and gave each of us hiking a piece of
bread. The driver continued on his way with a smile and a wave. </div>
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<br /></div>
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…during Ramadan in Morocco, when I was always invited to
i'ftar (the meal that breaks the sunup to sundown fast), even if I wasn't
fasting. When the sundown call to prayer sounded, the every citizen of the
country shared food with each other, expressing love and gratitude for their
ability to eat. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I have heard
love... </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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…on an 8-hour train ride from Marrakech to Fez, when a five
year old kid helped me practice my Arabic vocabulary cards, and giggled at my
accent. </div>
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<br /></div>
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...in the friendship extended to me from an Iranian living in Turkey, who has been exiled from his homeland for speaking out against human rights violations in his country. After surviving nearly six months in prison, he received political asylum. If he returns to Iran, he faces prison or worse. </div>
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<br /></div>
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…on another long train ride, in India, from a 14-year-old
girl who asked me about my family, and told me she wants to grow up to be an
activist for the poor in her hometown of Kolkata. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I have felt
love... </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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…when I got off on the wrong bus stop during a rainstorm in
Bangalore, I stopped to ask for directions from a shop owner, who used his
phone to call my hostel and gave me a hot cup of tea while I waited. </div>
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<br /></div>
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…during my last three days in Morocco, I had less than $5
left to my name, and my roommate from Casablanca let me stay with her family.
She made sure I had food and shelter when I had none. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kxq3GsqXwWrBpCPOE6C3Ow9_3-7eixo2BHuCLEOAAbI2SsiJm4pXyS8BVKGs7Q-YKL3O-wLoSsy_IfqWIcjgJv605WK7erWGwlOVxkEW1XQdTHI8yQ0JB9aJ-_dFPAD0dPBq5_VT1X0/s1600/303956_10150410891244273_716104272_8423173_1859429781_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7kxq3GsqXwWrBpCPOE6C3Ow9_3-7eixo2BHuCLEOAAbI2SsiJm4pXyS8BVKGs7Q-YKL3O-wLoSsy_IfqWIcjgJv605WK7erWGwlOVxkEW1XQdTHI8yQ0JB9aJ-_dFPAD0dPBq5_VT1X0/s320/303956_10150410891244273_716104272_8423173_1859429781_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the sweetest people I know</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
…in a village in the high atlas of Morocco, where I
befriended the young daughter of our hosts, exchanging languages and stories
and games. </div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJz5UEc103WOp-ocCVjxvuhU3LoVKUWr9vbm1z2BiyLlR6dyczsa4YMdJv6Iyet8ueBPSGBk5ypB4xnxtNAjJEY4-qbwljF-SAUtMelQ-zfSghHwHAKCk6dBncJ1MUlKqQdD7ag6BhPY/s1600/1004425_10201043692590395_603403735_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipJz5UEc103WOp-ocCVjxvuhU3LoVKUWr9vbm1z2BiyLlR6dyczsa4YMdJv6Iyet8ueBPSGBk5ypB4xnxtNAjJEY4-qbwljF-SAUtMelQ-zfSghHwHAKCk6dBncJ1MUlKqQdD7ag6BhPY/s320/1004425_10201043692590395_603403735_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends in the High Atlas of Morocco</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">And I shouldn't have
to say this but... </b></div>
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<br /></div>
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Every single person in those stories is Muslim, by choice or tradition. It shouldn't
matter, and I find it worth mentioning only to point out that those hate-filled
posts on Facebook, <a href="http://www.katu.com/news/local/Protesters-target-Portland-mosque-following-attacks-in-Paris--350386641.html">those protests at mosques</a>, and that causal racism that, intended or not, is a slur against every person in this story. For every member of an extremist
group, there are millions of people wanting to help. There are people <a href="http://www.thedailybeast.com/articles/2014/10/07/isis-s-gruesome-muslim-death-toll.html">losing their lives</a> in the hands of extremists, a fact we choose to ignore in the west. </div>
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<br /></div>
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While I don't think any of these stories will change the hate
and fear in human hearts, but I choose to share these and choose to contribute
stories of love, not hate. </div>
</div>
Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-46218785318362327832015-11-12T05:24:00.000-08:002015-11-12T05:24:01.986-08:00On Voluntourism <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Editors Note: The last
post I wrote was my personal experience as a tourist-volunteer (aka "voluntourist"). While I know my
experience is decidedly not universal, the topic is far too big to be covered
in one post. Beyond my personal experience, here is a more general discussion
of volunteering abroad. </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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“We need to help the poor people in [insert developing
country here]!” is a refrain in our media and our culture. It is the mission of
church groups, NGOs, and private citizens. With even the most rudimentary of an
education, we are informed of our privilege in the west. We are shown photos of
starving (always brown, but that's another topic) children and huts made of mud without electricity.
People feel some need to help abroad, especially in places like India, where
poverty, both total and abject, is shocking and openly displayed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While this is not to disparage those who wish to do good in
the world, the issues go beyond simply being poor and in need of rescue. They
include access to healthcare, sanitation issues, education, and gender issues.
Poverty is far more complex and deeply rooted than an outsider can realize, and
some practices are so deeply engrained in a culture that even to the locals
cannot understand them. </div>
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It is the fact that: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">there
are some things we will never understand</i>, that becomes the problem with
short-term stints volunteering abroad. In one to four weeks, we are supposed
to, without speaking the language, practicing the religion, or being citizens
of a country, are supposed to come in a “save” people from their conditions? We
think we know all the answers, that someone from the west can come and fix a
community. But to say that we, who have been born into our privileges, have all
the answers is at best naive and at worst downright harmful.</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLG7cCUlQ8q1S10E_quyVaAeBwsHBmMfmd1u_v3w5YILHo-K5RUI7oGnI8onPVhY3jXZpyfMV-2STIfIOCSXaM1nDZuBN1ReanpOjJg5hsW8i9e1PXFEmZnMYuYjByCQkBjECIh1Phi0/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLG7cCUlQ8q1S10E_quyVaAeBwsHBmMfmd1u_v3w5YILHo-K5RUI7oGnI8onPVhY3jXZpyfMV-2STIfIOCSXaM1nDZuBN1ReanpOjJg5hsW8i9e1PXFEmZnMYuYjByCQkBjECIh1Phi0/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my hosts in the village poses with her 6 month old son.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Yes, there are ways to help – as a doctor, an English
teacher, or a tradesperson, there are skills we in the west can contribute to a
foreign society. But when our “program fees” go to line the pocket of other
westerners, we are not contributing to a community. When we take on jobs (think
construction work or ditch-digging) that are not in our skillset, and could
probably be finished twice as quickly using local labor, we are not helping.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead, we are take a tour into someone
else’s life and using a self-righteousness as a band-aid for our
privilege-induced guilt. We are showing that our <a href="http://www.theonion.com/article/6-day-visit-to-rural-african-village-completely-ch-35083">“<span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">profile picture will never be the same</span>”</a> –never mind the impact we
have on that place. </div>
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Working in development is not a lark, or a way to show how
‘selfless’ we are. As a long-term career it is difficult, frustrating, a
draining. As a short-term stint, it is often just a way to validate a stay, and
go home satisfied with yourself for ‘doing something.’ <i> </i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>But without the understanding
that the needs of a community are complex, diverse, and sometimes nearly impossible
to meet, the key ingredient to successful and sustainable development is
absent. </i></div>
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My challenge those well meaning vagabonders so award of
their (our)<a href="http://zenandtheartofvagabonding.blogspot.in/2015/09/on-privilege.html"> privilege,</a> is to keep the guilt in check, and ask hard questions
about the impact you have in a community you intend to “serve.” A few to
start:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>How will my time make an impact? </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Is what I'm doing what a community needs? How do I know that? </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>If I’m paying for this experience, where is that
money going? </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>How is my stay impacting the local people (am I
a drain on their resources)? </div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>How will I be supported during this experience
(translators, guides, fellow volunteers)?</div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>Who are the major funders of this organization?
What are their interests?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span>What skills do I have that are truly beneficial
to this community?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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These and many more should the foundation of any attempt to
“help” in a developing country. As we move through the world, we should be
mindful of our impact, aware of our surroundings, and leave our
self-righteousness at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hh1xwkUgYJZC_uubtK-GEDfeyzR-5IWqkyoJwpDSd46ICM8boxNibdTCC8q9LHztxcH-2zAIHRJJvArGeu-V_T6FY_c7o5zzaCi4GGOSDItYtb9oINoueZc2DC-ggvTbc0rM4BPslGI/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3hh1xwkUgYJZC_uubtK-GEDfeyzR-5IWqkyoJwpDSd46ICM8boxNibdTCC8q9LHztxcH-2zAIHRJJvArGeu-V_T6FY_c7o5zzaCi4GGOSDItYtb9oINoueZc2DC-ggvTbc0rM4BPslGI/s400/photo.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kids from a Rajistani village hug a baby buffalo</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
</div>
Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-44764729082136223592015-11-05T06:13:00.000-08:002015-11-05T08:25:07.638-08:00On Immersion - My ten-day stint of voluntourism <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The concept, from the cozy confines of my tree-house in
Turkey, seemed simple. Arrive in India, receive help from a local to get
settled, move to a rural village, spend a couple of weeks teaching
recycling to cute school kids. Simple, right? Wrong. This experience is still
something I am trying to process, and has led to an entire other post about <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">voluntourism</b>. </div>
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As I found out, sometimes things are not as simple as they
seem. While the organization I worked with, <a href="http://www.silverearthindia.com/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Silver Earth India</span></a>, had the best intentions, the groundwork had
simply not been done. The first issue was that I was expected to teach at
school that was not in session 5 of the 10 days I was scheduled to be there,
something I didn’t find out until the 4 days into my stay. While I understand
that India has “more festivals than days of the year” I felt this should have
been discussed with me when I arrived, not the day before school let out. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiNcPN3Xb6VVccOZ58ck8xPrAG1yGuzkeSgmNDYAi6S5j_1VnyzwXSWV8trdjl-IqyFQiAr3weGNVY7sCMMlozU6xfaeViq4ww-tlBCyUgWMVXXINHSXOK5_iGARXOQPteDWWZe8m5mQ/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMiNcPN3Xb6VVccOZ58ck8xPrAG1yGuzkeSgmNDYAi6S5j_1VnyzwXSWV8trdjl-IqyFQiAr3weGNVY7sCMMlozU6xfaeViq4ww-tlBCyUgWMVXXINHSXOK5_iGARXOQPteDWWZe8m5mQ/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My second day at the village school</td></tr>
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And then there was the “job” itself. My task was supposed to
teach and model trash disposal in a community that not only did not even have a
local dump, let alone trash bins or garbage pickup. Furthermore, the community of approximately 100 families did not have
running water or toilets, and many of the women (and I suspect men as well)
were illiterate. So yes, recycling can be done, the use of plastic can be
minimized, but in the grand scheme of things – shouldn’t toilets and education
come first? It was hard to feel like teaching people to use a dumpster was the
best use of my time, when many of the women there couldn’t read or write. The
priorities were felt entirely wrong. </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvt64JBns_uj3cdByzZ7m2o8NSkT73tUFpEcA60dnWAiAqOk8ZGRJJ65hirVwFKuKRi0gw7sd0SzAv88LaFSq2JZJ7A9CpFSErfGIlgFKo2NocJHjJPQ7YfC4G83gGFHYszCYD34g_xE/s1600/photo+5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDvt64JBns_uj3cdByzZ7m2o8NSkT73tUFpEcA60dnWAiAqOk8ZGRJJ65hirVwFKuKRi0gw7sd0SzAv88LaFSq2JZJ7A9CpFSErfGIlgFKo2NocJHjJPQ7YfC4G83gGFHYszCYD34g_xE/s320/photo+5.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Women of the village escorted me literally <i>everywhere.</i></td></tr>
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In addition to the trouble with the job itself, I was left by the program manager without a single person on site who spoke English, leaving me unable to communicate
with my host family in any meaningful way. My living situation was in a shared
room without toilets or running water. When I was not teaching, I was shuffled
from one neighbors house to another like a zoo animal. While people were kind, I was as alien as well.. an alien. My desire to use toilet
paper was a resounding scandal among the women (they clean with water and their left hand), and defecation was done in the open with no
less than 2 other women around at all times. Showers were taken outside, topless but wearing a skirt (turns out, this can work, although the all-women audience made me self-conscious). People were far more interested in
my travel pillow and my contact lenses than my teaching skills, and without the
ability to communicate in words, I was left feeling dumb, helpless, and very much alone most of
the time. </div>
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Due to all of these things, I left the experience
within a week. I did leave the village knowing a few words of Hindi (“I want to
sleep” and “my stomach is not good” and “thank you for the food”), the kindness
of the people who hosted me, and a HUGE and very real lesson about voluntourism
(read more in the next entry). I learned that full and true immersion into a
place where you don't speak the language is terrifying, mentally exhausting,
and incredibly challenging. To overcome these challenges requires support,
time, and ideally a community of others who are able to mentor you throughout
the process. One cannot simply be thrown into a village and expect to “make
people change.” </div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEgxs6DDIEoMkA_XRUoTffk0xCigl8nIKnCEFi-QaswRStcjJfkZGRfOJ3BoxlTK6i0f_FetU0sHEdsF0CpBYR5_m2DB6aqTDd3cxM3Q6NzRJ5Tf1GlYSNGlF91MgOMlyE80OAxwblkc/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghEgxs6DDIEoMkA_XRUoTffk0xCigl8nIKnCEFi-QaswRStcjJfkZGRfOJ3BoxlTK6i0f_FetU0sHEdsF0CpBYR5_m2DB6aqTDd3cxM3Q6NzRJ5Tf1GlYSNGlF91MgOMlyE80OAxwblkc/s320/photo+3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host-sister dried buffalo dung on the roof to make fuel for the fire</td></tr>
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I don't disparage the ideals of the organization (trash is a
huge problem in India), but I wish the program was set up to be more
intentional, and that the impossibility of teaching without verbal
communication could have been effectively addressed. I wish I had asked more questions before I arrived, and I know now what a serious undertaking something like this is. I ended up with my first ten days in India resulting in a good story, memories of kindness in an alien land, and intense, new-found gratitude for the simple and
familiar comforts of things like pooping with privacy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span> </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-28344339104351806022015-10-24T19:55:00.001-07:002015-10-24T20:01:40.241-07:00On Becoming More or Less American <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In my six weeks abroad I have become a little less, and a
little more, American. My use of American slang has diminished, and instead I say things like “muesli”
instead of granola and “torch” instead of flashlight. I ask others if they went
to “uni,” but still refer to my last four years of education as college. I’ve
even absorbed a bit of <a href="http://www.effingpot.com/slang.shtml"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">slang</span></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>(see “Knackered” and “can’t be fucked” for two of my favorites). My
voice is a bit quieter; my jokes have become a bit less frequent (this due to
both translation issues and often a simple lack of people who know my humor).
The eccentricities that come with my nationality are toned down, even though my
national identity is often asked before my name is – which is sometimes not
asked for at all. If a conversation goes deeper, and I asked about US politics,
I am the first to disown <a href="http://theweek.com/speedreads/584844/donald-trump-insults-iowa-voters-monsanto-blames-intern"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Donald Trump</span>,</a>
<a href="http://www.newsweek.com/gun-control-what-we-can-learn-other-advanced-countries-379105"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">US gun laws</span></a>, <a href="http://carbonfootprintofnations.com/content/environmental_footprint_of_nations/">the American carbon footprint</a>, and express my frustration at <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/07/10/social-psychology-racism_n_7688910.html?ir=India&adsSiteOverride=in"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">racism </span></a>and <a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/itsallpolitics/2015/07/15/422957640/lots-of-other-countries-mandate-paid-leave-why-not-the-us"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">gender issues</span></a> in our country. I am have become more outspoken
about the issues in my own country, even as I adapt into a more global identity and attempt to
challenge the stereotype of an American abroad. </div>
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</div>
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<br />
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8AV8Mc70DAwrDTQxsXLPn-1xYebd9s4ZlPi0Pl5nI4z4z4LQWdbmTlu7JgSp7CdoKG0VleOfuZm-EoEZtNBfYPakQJhYPlQloVQJD6Xpi9ls69jQNtMlBoCUdLDpEMNyMxX2nmWHp2I/s1600/11892217_10205735702204548_7110799316312095383_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs8AV8Mc70DAwrDTQxsXLPn-1xYebd9s4ZlPi0Pl5nI4z4z4LQWdbmTlu7JgSp7CdoKG0VleOfuZm-EoEZtNBfYPakQJhYPlQloVQJD6Xpi9ls69jQNtMlBoCUdLDpEMNyMxX2nmWHp2I/s400/11892217_10205735702204548_7110799316312095383_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Washington, DC, USA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But, paradoxically, in so, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">so</i> many ways, I have become more Montanan. I have a developed a
certain personal, entirely apolitical, pride in my homeland, and in my specific
identity as a resident of the American West. As a way to differentiate myself,
to feel special, to cling to an identity that is not that of “American” (with
all the <a href="http://thetangential.com/2011/06/28/pros-and-cons-of-being-american/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">positive and negative implications</span></a>), I push my identity as a <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Montanan
</span>before nearly everything else, even my name. When asked about my home
(and sometimes without being asked) I tell stories of cowboys and cattle drives
and the Wild West. The story of my parents ranch, my first ever earned income
(shooting rabbits that were made into jackalopes), and the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_U.S._states_by_population_density">population density of Montana </a>are often the first, and sometimes only, things people know about
me. I’m not above sharing unsolicited pictures of pig races and mountains and
horses and my little brother in a cowboy hat. I am Dee, <a href="http://www.movoto.com/blog/opinions/moving-to-montana/"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">from Montana</i></span></a>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtTGo2NWYV6nw3C_n6aye3QjgHicwBufeA7_I3n_SUVB5e660g76d5wwR1bVAW_UhtATIctdLuwq3OxAWxXWgWQsULZhejxNQ42Kfh82qX-m_ID1upWE9OA-LCuQTjA8wt9447sQ_OjY/s1600/10653484_10203352009533721_5722213641884385503_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVtTGo2NWYV6nw3C_n6aye3QjgHicwBufeA7_I3n_SUVB5e660g76d5wwR1bVAW_UhtATIctdLuwq3OxAWxXWgWQsULZhejxNQ42Kfh82qX-m_ID1upWE9OA-LCuQTjA8wt9447sQ_OjY/s320/10653484_10203352009533721_5722213641884385503_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Montana is for camping!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I have learned that removing myself from familiar
surroundings and familiar people has forced me to create my own identity. I an
entirely in control of which facts I choose to share, of who I choose to
present myself as in this world. My homeland and my travels, both past and
current, are irreversibility intertwined, but which threads I choose from the
tapestry of my experiences are mine and mine alone. While traveling, I have
created my identity as Dee, a barely-American, but very Montanan, solo
vagabonder. And this identity helps me love myself, my background, and the world a little bit more. </div>
</div>
Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-27783991694473316932015-09-28T04:00:00.001-07:002015-10-07T04:48:51.537-07:00On Privilege <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This post was inspired by <a href="http://amptoons.com/blog/files/mcintosh.html">Peggy McIntosh’s 1988 paper “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.</a>” In essence, the paper is a
list of privileges she, as a white woman, receives. Privilege is defined here as
unearned advantages that one receives simply by being a part of in the society in which one
lives. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The concept of privilege is based on the idea that we are not simply
autonomous, entirely independent beings living in a vacuum. Instead,
whether we acknowledge it or not, we are participants in our society, both at home and
abroad. We exist in a world where the rules are already made, and even if those
rules are not explicitly written, they are often executed in such a way that gives one group an
advantage or another.<br />
<br />
Below is a brief list of the privileges I experience as a white, American, college-educated traveler. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I can book a flight using a major
credit card, and do not need to operate on a cash-only budget. Banks in a few
countries <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">do not issue credit cards at
all</b>, and spending money abroad is on a cash-only basis for citizens of these countries. </div>
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<br /></div>
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English is my first language, and
nearly<a href="http://www.pewresearch.org/fact-tank/2015/07/13/learning-a-foreign-language-a-must-in-europe-not-so-in-america/"> <span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">anywhere in the world,</span></a> if
something is translated from the countries official language, it will likely be<b>
</b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">translated into English</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I wish to volunteer or work abroad as an
English teach, my native proficiency is <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/alana-macpherson/english-graduates-asia-the-demand-for-native-eng_b_2117297.html"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">in high demand</span></a>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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My passport allows me to go more
places without a visa than nearly <a href="http://www.ibtimes.com/best-passports-have-unrestricted-travel-around-world-1422038"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">any other passport in the world</span></a><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">(besides passports from Sweden, Finland, or the UK).</span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>I do not need to spend money on a visa or organize my itinerary around a visa, to visit 172
countries. </div>
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<br /></div>
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While traveling alone as a women
is still seen as unusual in other parts of the world<a href="https://www.google.com.tr/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=30&ved=0CFQQFjAJOBRqFQoTCKubw9LHmcgCFQNdLAodCFUG_A&url=http%3A%2F%2Fnews.booking.com%2Fdownload%2F42962%2F140428solofemaletravelnewrelease_final_us-0155.pdf&usg=AFQjCNHNSrXwdoeO2vEer0EkdiycUk9qwg&cad=rja">, it is culturally acceptable in my home country</a>. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I can return to my home country at
any time and, within a reasonable amount of time, <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/news/datablog/2012/oct/31/europe-unemployment-rate-by-country-eurozone"><span style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">expect to find employment.</span> </a></div>
<a href="http://www.theguardian.com/news/datablog/2012/oct/31/europe-unemployment-rate-by-country-eurozone">
</a><br />
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<br /></div>
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Even if I return home with no
money at all, I can return to a<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> social
structure that will support </b>me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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I am a traveler. Not a <a href="http://www.humansofnewyork.com/post/129937919206/i-want-to-begin-this-refugee-series-with-a-post">refugee</a>. I
am not fleeing a war, terrorism, or an oppressive government. I have an
autonomy and freedom that was not earned, that was given to me by birth. That
is my privilege as a traveler. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">To roam across the world as a traveler is, in my eyes, the greatest privilege. </span></div>
</div>
Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-4162257303858580382015-09-22T01:57:00.000-07:002015-09-22T01:57:21.159-07:00On Planning <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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So, you’ve used a budgeting system to save up for your dream
trip. Now, how do you plan it? Where will you go and what will you do? </div>
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<br /></div>
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From what I’ve seen and done myself, there seem to be two
approaches to planning an international trip: 1) plan everything down to the
last detail or 2) plan absolutely nothing, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, and figure
it out each day. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Most travelers will fall somewhere in the middle of these
two approaches, and in general solo travelers are much more spontaneous than
groups. Each approach has it’s own pros and cons, but in general I have noticed
a few rules (guidelines, really) for planning a trip that have created successful vagabonding
experiences for both myself and others. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbxKNLbcLCM45y8C0natAZ0Be7KVzaMFhLFlrs9aTqhEjBVo81nGP1v7AsjTd-DUFs1awfXUwms-JDAP_3KbsbKVfM7Wvgc2SyR66KVY1Z0s0zqYPzOxNQksM8Asza81o3xhHwBU7o2M/s1600/planning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbxKNLbcLCM45y8C0natAZ0Be7KVzaMFhLFlrs9aTqhEjBVo81nGP1v7AsjTd-DUFs1awfXUwms-JDAP_3KbsbKVfM7Wvgc2SyR66KVY1Z0s0zqYPzOxNQksM8Asza81o3xhHwBU7o2M/s320/planning.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">1) Make a list of
things you want to do - then be willing to let go of half of those things.</b></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>If you want
to go to Paris to see the Eiffel tower, by all means put that on the list. But
if you have one day in Paris and you want to (without a tour guide shuttling
you around) see the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, the Arc De Triomphe, Notre Dame,
the Opera de Paris, Montparnasse Tower, Moulin Rouge, eat crepes, take a boat
ride down the river, and go to a wine tasting all before noon, be prepared for
at least one of those things to not happen. Set realistic goals regarding what
you could reasonably do in a day, and take time to look at where each of these
things are located and how you can get there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">2) Know that planning
takes time. </b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></b>I have and continue to do most
of my planning while on the road, since in my trip is fairly long, and in my
experience the best opportunities are recommended by other travelers. However,
know that you will spend time sitting on the wifi in your hostel looking up bus
schedules and flight options when you could be out on the town having
adventures. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">3) Don’t forget about
food, water, and local currency. </b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></b>This goes back to a mantra of
sorts – any time I’ve been miserable on the road, I have been decidedly lacking
in one or more of those things. You can’t fully appreciate the beauty of the
place you’re in if your stomach is growling or you forgot to get enough money
to catch the bus back to the place you’re sleeping. Look at your plan for the
day and make sure those key things are included in it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">4) Give yourself
transit time </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></b>Especially when your plan
requires you to catch busses, planes, or trains (or several of each), know that
they may not arrive in time, you may not find the right spot on your first try,
and in places outside of the US and Europe, the online schedule might not be accurate. Also, when going to a new place, it's often an all-day affair to arrive, go though customs, get your bag, find public transit, find the place you're staying, and check in. Plus you'll need to find food, water, and local currency (see above). </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">5) Listen to others</b></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Even if you
have the most iron clad itinerary, down to the restaurants you want to eat at,
be open to the opinions of other travelers and locals. Through other travelers
I have found the best hostels, the best food, and the most interesting things
to do. This goes double for the people who actually live in these places. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Ultimately, when planning your trip, remember to relax, have
fun, and take it easy. You will never be able to do everything you want to always - that's part of the beauty. It’s not a race to check every box in the guidebook.
Your only task is to enjoy yourself and learn about the place you’re in. So when
things don’t go as planned, stay zen, vagabonders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
</div>
Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-44715498623823573032015-09-15T02:23:00.000-07:002015-09-15T02:37:17.107-07:00On Money <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</style><i>“Do you have a job?"</i><br />
<i>“Did your father get oil money?</i><i>”</i><br />
<i>“Did you deal drugs?”</i><br />
<i>“Who’s paying for your trip?” </i><br />
<i>
</i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Inevitably, these questions come up in conversations,
colored with various mixes of curiosity, disbelief, and the assumption that I am a trust-fund kid. People seem
to struggle with the concept that yes, I am paying for the trip myself, and no,
I am not independently wealthy, all money I've made has been legal, and I did not have particularly lucrative jobs for
the last year and a half. I had did have a LOT of jobs, both in college and
since I graduated, but that was not the secret. </div>
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<br /></div>
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Travel is not particularly more expensive than a new car, a wedding, a boat, or any other "luxury item" that people spend money on. It is not an unreachable goal for most of us in the Western World. It simply requires saving money. My secret to saving is so simple it can be explained in one sentence. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">I kept track of every
single dime I’ve spent since Fall 2012. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Each month I did the math: How much I would earn that month,
what my necessary expenses were (food, rent, car insurance), what my
unnecessary expenses were (beer, eating out, beer, skiing, beer). I added it
all and made sure the total was a smaller number than the amount of money I
made. I set goals each month based on those totals. If I went over my budget, I
picked up an extra shift, found another job, or pro-rated the expenses over
multiple months. For example, if I had to spend $300 on groceries at Costco, I
added and extra $100 to my grocery expense each month for 3 months, since that
was the approximate amount of time the groceries would last. It's simple math, the kind even I can do, it just takes discipline to enter your expenses as they happen. </div>
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In the interest of full discolsure, I will admit to two additional advantage, besides my obsessive accounting. </div>
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1) I have very little student debt, and my loan payments are
incredibility low, meaning that unlike my peers I don’t need to shell out $600
every month to make my minimum loan payment. This I attribute to a combination
of good fortune and hard work, including applying for nearly 100 scholarships,
working as an RA, and taking the maximum number of classes each semester so I
could finish in four years. However, I truly believe my system would have
worked even if I’d had student debt, it would have just taken a bit longer
(perhaps 2 years instead of 1) to save enough. </div>
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2) I avoided paying rent as much as possible. I spent nearly every summer with a job that included housing, and had my housing paid for when
I was an Resident Assistant in college. Housing is generally the biggest
expense in any budget, so finding that cheaply was key. This does mean a few
sacrifices of privacy and space, but with a bit of creative thinking it is
entirely possible. </div>
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That’s it. That’s the whole story. I worked a lot, had a bit
of luck, and most importantly <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">kept an
account of every dime I spend, and still do.</b> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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If you would like a copy of an the excel template I used, a
breakdown of my expenses on the road, or other budgeting information, comment with your email below. </div>
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<b>To find out what your dream trip would cost, check out: </b></div>
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<a href="http://www.budgetyourtrip.com/countrylist.php">Budget Your Trip</a> - for accurate estimates of expenses in many countries </div>
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<a href="http://www.kayak.com/">Kayak</a> - for estimating flight costs. In Europe, also try <a href="https://www.ryanair.com/">RyanAir </a>and <a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/">EasyJet</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/">Lonely Planet</a> - cost estimates for budget, mid-range, and high-end travel </div>
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Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1434126298971569113.post-43636038261206550482015-09-13T01:02:00.002-07:002015-09-13T01:02:40.465-07:00On New Friends <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Staying in hostels is like a perpetual first day of college. You tried to figure out
who was cool and who wasn’t, but, if you were even a little bit social, you
gave everyone an equal chance all the same. Everyone was a potential friend,
and it was only after days or weeks or even school years that you learned who
could be trusted and who was going to flunk out, flake, fuck off, or never be
heard from again. </div>
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Traveling alone and staying in hostels is so much like that
– figuring out who you can trust and who not to, but being open all the same.
But the stakes seem so much lower. After all, if you make a mistake, say
something stupid, you or he or she or they will be gone in the next night, or
the one after that. You will never have to look that person, or group of people, in the
eye in English 101 next semester. Your interactions in these places are
fleeting and temporary and, often, follow a very similar pattern. </div>
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“Where you from?” </div>
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“How long you been here?”</div>
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“How long you traveling” </div>
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“Where to next?”</div>
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Names often come last, and only if the answers to the above
are satisfying. </div>
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This isn’t to say the experiences aren’t valuable. There are
interesting people, smart people, people whose lives you can’t even quite
imagine, waiting to tell you their story. There is an open-minded and handsome
young man from Dubai, who is excited at pathetic attempts to speak Arabic.
There are Germans and Italians and French, all usually traveling in groups. There
are the invariable shades of Aussie and English girls and boys, and one can’t
help but fall a bit in love with their accents, in the same way they enjoys
yours. There are one or two potential true friends, who leave too suddenly, and
whose itinerates you wish you could match better. Just like in college, there
are people with whom there is unexpected common ground. </div>
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But mostly, when one is traveling alone there is only the road, that endless stretch
of potential adventures. The question of what you
are doing and why you are here has a million answers, but it only the answer
that you can give yourself that matters. The ability to leave a place, and people, is a great freedom, but it comes with the cost of starting over at a new place, answering the same questions, and sussing out the same people again and again. It is the perpetual process of making new friends. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDkysb1VpfavQEHG9AfewYCO2tDigbT-akQgpxoM0nEik3uVlJtr3VmYfsyq6p9-JRnPY3RP1_NPQF0xndDmpbLb8xw6IBP5bAwUDG1C0Wq8Ool1wlrAwB514PuEXVGFxdmHXFHQtZo7c/s1600/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDkysb1VpfavQEHG9AfewYCO2tDigbT-akQgpxoM0nEik3uVlJtr3VmYfsyq6p9-JRnPY3RP1_NPQF0xndDmpbLb8xw6IBP5bAwUDG1C0Wq8Ool1wlrAwB514PuEXVGFxdmHXFHQtZo7c/s320/sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Tyler Toddhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06585904923405000387noreply@blogger.com0