Dear GoMad Nomad:

I’m low on cash but still want to travel, what should I do? Go into further debt and live life in the moment, or do the prudent thing and save up my money?

-Broke In Brooklyn

Dear Broke in Brooklyn:

My first advice is to get the heck out of Brooklyn! You’ll save up more money living in the sticks. But, yeah, yeah, I know you want to be at the epicenter of Hipsterdom.

Anyhow, to answer your question: Don’t go into debt! But…you can still travel on very limited funds. The options are limitless.

Since you don’t have money, I’m assuming you have time.  You can spend that extra time that you normally spend nursing PBRs on Bedford Ave, researching and planning out your travel.

First thing you’ll have to understand about cheap/budget travel is that it happens very slowly. You’ll have to opt for the pueblo bus over the bullet train; and if you’re going to hitch, you’ll have a lot of time to perfect your hacky sack skills while waiting for your free rides. So I’d reserve anywhere from two months to a year for this expedition.

If you just happen to have graduated from college and don’t know what to do, check out this fantastic post over at Almost Fearless.

Since you have the time, I would highly recommend volunteering, “helping,” working, and temporarily residing in the places you plan on visiting. This will allow you to actually experience the place and get to know the people you have traveled so far to visit.

Volunteering

This one is tricky. You want to avoid paying a fee to volunteer. I don’t mind helping others, but I don’t like to have to pay for that privilege, and neither should you. Check out these awesome articles for low-cost or free volunteering opportunities in Nepal, the West Bank, and Spain. Transitions Abroad Magazine is also an incredible resource for volunteering abroad info.

Help Exchange

Before I started teaching English in Madrid, I almost took a gig helping an English couple in Brittany restore an old train station into a B & B. I would have helped them for four hours a day and they would have fed me and given me a room in their home. The rest of the day I could spend working on my writing projects with the help of their wireless internet. I used Help Exchange to connect with these people in need of a helper. But the dream was never realized.

Working

Get to the Caribbean or cross the Atlantic while working aboard a yacht. Skippers in ports far and wide are always looking for a crew that preferably speaks their language and may or may not have sailing experience. Good sites to connect skippers and crew: Crewfinders, Yacht Crew Register, or Dovaston Crew.

Temporarily Residing

A great option is house sitting. I kind of want to make a career out of this, except it doesn’t pay very well. Why not take care of the perritos and water Señora Torres’ garden for the month August while she’s vacationing at her other home on the Canaries? You’ll probably need a good reference before strangers will entrust you with their home and animals. Use Mind My House, House Careers, or House Sit World.

So if you combine a little traveling in between some of these ideas, you’ll have a well-rounded trip.  Use couchsurfing for accommodation read up on hitchhiking before you leave.

-Stephen

Related posts:

1. Ask GoMad Nomad: The English Countryside in Six Days
2. GoMad Nomad Turns One
3. Ask Gomad Nomad!

By Danielle L. Krautmann

Celebrating Easter with a traditional Panetton

The other day I was taking a taxi back from work.  I negotiated the fare to be eight soles, a fair price to go from San Borja to my apartment in San Isidro.  I told the taxi driver to please not take the street Javier Prado explaining “la trafica es mierda ahora,” and asked him to take a different route.  He ignored my request and landed us in stand still traffic on Javier Prado.  He told me if I wanted to continue, I would need to pay 12 soles.  Assessing the situation to be non-threatening, I explained to him that he had two options.  I could get out of the taxi and pay him nothing, or he could take me to my apartment for the price we agreed upon.  I said I had told him not to take Javier Prado and he took it anyway, that was his problem, not mine.  He mumbled a couple swears and agreed to take me for eight soles.  I won an argument in Spanish!  Yes!

Something has changed over the past two months.  I first became aware of it when I started having difficulty coming up with blog topics.  At first, everything felt so new and different that I had a long list of topics I wanted to cover.  Then, I was so frustrated with the differences that I didn’t want to write about them.  Lately, it’s getting harder and harder to see the differences between Peru and the United States because it feels like day to day life.

Some friends over for Charlie's surprise 30th birthday party

I am currently in the process of getting my Peruvian Foreign Residency card or Carnet de Extranjeria.  Don’t be confused, this is not citizenship, it’s basically permission to stay for an extended period of time without a visa.  It’s about as Peruvian as I can get.  While I contemplate what this means for me, I can’t help but recall a conversation I had with Charlie in February when my frustrations hit the roof.  Charlie told me that I lived here now and needed to get used to the cultural differences.  At the time, it was the meanest thing he could have possibly said to me.  How dare he tell me that I live here?  I thought we were just staying temporarily until it was over!

So what’s the difference between being a resident and just staying here?  It wasn’t until my recent visit back to the States that I really felt, for better or for worse, that my home is here in Peru.  When I got together with friends or family, most people’s first question was, “How’s Peru?”  You would think that I would be a pro at answering such a generic question, but it continued to dumbfound me.  I felt like I was being asked “how is your life?” and had no idea where to start my answer.  While three months ago, I would have delved into the differences between the two countries, my answer tended to be something along the lines of “Peru’s good, how’s New Hampshire?”

I have noticed that as Peru has begun to feel more like home, situations that originally sent me running back to the apartment in fits of rage or tears are now nothing more than little annoyances.  For example, paying the monthly bills is a tedious process.  Checks don’t exist here and you can’t pay with credit card so you need to go to the bank associated with the company (for example Telefonica is our cable/internet provider and they use Scotiabank) and deposit money into their account.   Since everyone does this, the lines are usually long and since people feel the need to start every interaction with a polite conversation (taking much longer than I believe they should), the lines move slowly.  The first time I went to pay bills, I quit half way through, storming home after waiting in line for a hour and a half.  Now, I plan the bill-paying process will take at least an afternoon.  I usually spread it out over two days and go to the bank when it’s least busy.

Presenting Charlie with cake at his surprise 30th b-day party

I still get annoyed with los hombres, but have had a revelation.  About a month ago, I walked by two men, dressed professionally in business suits in a nice area of the city.  They were having a seemingly serious conversation about investments (I was eavesdropping).  As I walked by them, one of the men momentarily excused himself, made an obnoxious smooching noise towards me, then apologized to his business partner and continued the conversation.  It was almost as if he was obligated to do it.  Like if I walked by and one of them neglected to comment, the conversation could not continue or one might lose respect for the other.  Now, I get this machoism is a cultural thing and I need to try to accept it.  While it used to cause me to have violent dreams about beating a Peruvian man until he bleeds (seriously), now I just roll my eyes or turn up my Ipod.

I can speak enough Spanish to get by in most situations.  I do not consider myself fluent because I still can’t follow jokes told in Spanish, sarcasm, or quick conversation among groups, but I’m getting there.  I can get around the city by bus and know how much I should be paying for taxis so I’m taken advantage of less.  I’ve got friends in Peru who I missed on my trip back to the states.  I found work tutoring English to children and between that and Spanish classes have managed to keep my days quite full (although I still miss my job as an occupational therapist terribly).  I got sick of telling people that I moved here for my husband’s job, so I’ve begun to tell people I’m either a writer or a teacher (depending on the day and what I’ve done more of).  Although I don’t have the official card to prove it, I will soon and I think it’s safe to say that I’m not just staying here anymore.  I live here.  I’m a resident of Peru.

Related posts:

1. Arrival in Peru
2. Kissing in Peru
3. Transportation in Lima

The Wheels of the Combi Go Round and Round

By Danielle L. Krautmann

A Lima bus with a cobrador hanging out

Currently Lima, Peru has no public transportation.  This restricts Limenians to use either taxis, buses, cars, or “combies”.  Charlie and I don’t plan to get a car while we’re here because it’s easy enough for us to get from one place to another.  Plus, with the plan to stay for two or three years, it hardly seems worth it.

Every person you meet has either had a bad experience with a taxi or knows someone else who has. A Peruvian friend of mine took a taxi to get from one fairly safe neighborhood to another.  When he noticed the taxi wasn’t going in the right direction, he said something to the driver.  Sooner than he could stop them, three men approached the taxi, and the next thing he remembers is waking up in a bad part of town on the side of the road.  His money and cell phone had been stolen.  A guy Charlie works with got robbed at knife point in a taxi.  One time Charlie and I were taking a taxi and the driver fell asleep…while driving.

In most of my experiences, except for the frequent opportunist or pervert, the drivers are more or less harmless.  They either charge exorbitant rates to tourists and gringos who don’t know any better, or hit on me the whole time.  They like to ask me questions about myself, where am I from, how do I like Peru, where do I live, would I like to get coffee with them?  They tell me I’m beautiful or sexy (duh), and once, the driver drove along with an obvious erection.  Gladys says not to be friendly, smile, or even talk to the driver.  Wear your sunglasses and a frown.  Every time you get into a taxi, you take a risk.

The payment system is different than in the States.  Since taxis don’t have meters, you negotiate a price with the driver. Before entering the car, tell him where you’re going, all the while scoping out the cab to assess its safety.  If it’s a station wagon, check the back for people or weapons.  If you are a gringo, the driver will give you a price far higher than what you should pay.  “Dies soles,” he might say after contemplating for a few seconds.

Gladys and I with our serious riding-the-bus faces

At this point, you have three options. 1. Take his first offer and pay “el pricio gringo.”  If you’re strapped for time, this is your best option.  2.  Decline his offer and wait for the next taxi who is inevitably waiting nearby.  I often do this before negotiating to show the approaching taxi that I will not accept a ridiculous quote.  3. Negotiate the price.  I’m getting quite good at this.  I will say something like “normalmente yo pago tres o cuatro soles.”  Then he either accepts, drives off because he’s offended, or negotiates further until we come to middle ground.

Suggestions for a safe taxi ride in Lima include:

1. Speak as little as possible to the driver.  In my experience, conversations about myself often lead to the driver either trying to get more money from me, trying to convince me to go somewhere else, or asking me on a date.  I have heard predators will use conversation to distract tourists who want to practice their Spanish.  Meanwhile they might change routes.

2. When you do speak, use as much Spanish as possible to show the driver that you know what he’s saying…even if you don’t.

3. Know where you’re going and if possible, tell the driver what route you would like to take.

4. If you are alone, sit directly behind the driver.

5. Know where the lock to the door is.  Some taxis have auto locks and lock you in when you enter.  Just make sure you can undo the lock if need be.

A quiet day on the bus with very few passengers

In research for this article, I took my first “combi”.  These are mini-vans that go hurling through the streets at top speeds sparing no pedestrians.  They are infamous for hitting people and getting in accidents.  Initially I was not in favor of how close I was squished in between two men, one of whom insisted on making kissing noises towards me for the duration of my ride.  The last of the three combies I took was lacking a floor.  It had wooden boards nailed down along the cross rails between the tires.   I rode along with my feet suspended, fearing for my life as I watched the wheel turn round and round underneath me.  Although not my preferred option, they are the fastest and cheapest way to get around town.

Personally, I prefer taking buses whenever possible.  They are cheaper than taxis, somewhat safer, and far more entertaining.  The equivalent of 40 cents can get you close to anywhere you need to go in the city.  As I mentioned previously, there is no public transportation.  The buses are all private competing companies with no schedules, websites or monthly passes.  “Cobradors” stand on the first step of the bus calling route and street names rapidly like auctioneers.  “Javiar Prado, Prado, Prado, Todo Javier Prado, La Molina,  Molina.”  As the buses quickly approach, you have very little time to contemplate which one you want to take since they rarely come to a complete stop.

Three or four buses approach at the same time, trying their hardest to cut each other off in order to be the first to pull up.  I scan them quickly as they approach, hoping to view one with an open seat.  If there aren’t any, no worries, the cobradors stuff passengers in as tightly as they fit making each journey its own olfactory experience.  You may be lucky enough to be pushed up against the chest of an older woman with musky perfume that stays on you for hours afterward.  On an even luckier day, you have less than an inch of space between you and a sweaty construction worker on his way home from work.  Just make sure you push your way to the front of the bus several blocks before you plan to disembark since, like I said before, they rarely come to a complete stop.  Be ready to jump. As you ride along, you can watch as the standing people get thrown back and forth as the bus forces its way through traffic making brief stops when it gets cut off by other busses.  If you end up standing, your best bet is to keep your knees bent, feet wide apart, with a low center of gravity.  Focus and be prepared for a quick stop-and-go at any time.

While the bus sits in traffic, vendors approach the windows selling cold beverages, snacks and newspapers.  During peak traffic, you can buy sunglasses, wallets, lighters, large maps of Peru or South America, necklaces, pens, and various other trinkets all for sale at the convenience of your bus seat.  There’s a guy I sometimes see weaving his way through traffic selling beautiful handmade pirate ship replicas.  When there are few enough passengers, vendors board the bus and ride from one to three blocks.

First they stand at the front of the bus so everyone can see them.  They sell their pitch, “Hello, my name is Miguel.  I am selling these Pilot pens for a great price.  In a store you can buy them for no less than three soles.  Because you are such beautiful people, I will sell them to you for one soles per pen.”  Miguel proceeds to work his way from the front to the back asking each person individually if they would like to buy a pen.

If you’re lucky, Miguel might be a starving musician who boards the bus to play a song on his guitar, then walks through asking for donations. Despite his filthy attire, pathetic attempt at a performance, and drunken, stumbling gait, people donate!

If you plan to take a bus, hold your purse close to you, try to get a seat, and cross your fingers as accidents are not uncommon.

Related posts:

1. Feeling at home in Peru, Finally
2. Lima 42 K
3. A Day in Lima Contest

Culture shock refers to feelings of anxiety, depression, or confusion that often go along with adjusting to life in a foreign country.  The process of adjustment can be broken down into three stages:  The Honeymoon Stage, The Negotiation or Frustration Stage, and the Understanding or Acclimation Stage.

The Honeymoon stage generally occurs when you first arrive in your new country with vigor to experience a new culture.  “Symptoms” include an eagerness to learn the language, a love of the food, pace of life, habits, architecture, etc., and an excitement to experience as much as possible of the new country.  Why can’t honeymoons last forever?

The frustration stage can be expected to set in within weeks of your arrival as the initial enthusiasm begins to wear off.  During this stage, you begin to resent characteristics about the culture that you originally found appealing.  You may also feel homesick or become frustrated with the process of learning the language.  Mood swings and feelings of depression are not uncommon.  You may realize that you’re actually very lonely when your husband is away at the mine in Cajarmarca and wrongly resent him for it.  Some people have been known to have difficulty keeping their regular blog.

During the frustration stage, you might be so preoccupied with your feelings of sadness and loneliness that you get lost on your way to meet your friend, and then forget your apartment keys in the taxi you took to help you find the spot.  You might even sprint four blocks after the taxi, pushing people out of the way, crying and screaming in English “STOP!  MY KEYS!  MY HUSBAND IS IN CAJAMARCA!  I DON’T HAVE A SPARE!” only to have the taxi continue to drive away leaving you looking like a crazy person, crying hysterically on the sidewalk blubbering “I hate Peru!”

DiversityAbroad.com assures readers that the frustration stage occurs to millions of people and offers suggestions for coping.  It recommends that you try not to blame your host county (or husband) for your frustrations and to remember that adjusting to a new environment takes time.  The best way to handle it is to try your best to stay positive and focused on all of the new people, food, and experiences you’re having.  It also suggests keeping a journal…hmmm….or blog?

Fortunately, eventually most people who study, work, or travel abroad reach the Acclimation Stage.  This is when you begin to feel more comfortable functioning in your host country.  You build up a network of friends and have a better understanding of the language.  You feel relaxed in your environment and are able to compare both the good and bad of your native country with the good and bad of your host country.

Posted by Danielle L. Krautmann on 4 March, 2010

I have receive more than 30 messages via email and Facebook over the past two weeks asking me what happened to my blog.   I’m sorry I haven’t written much lately.  I’ve been in a slump.   I intend to resume more regular entries and look forward to telling about my Spanish classes and our recent vacation in Arequipa and Colca Canyon.  Stay tuned!

-Danielle

Related posts:

1. Kissing in Peru
2. Feeling at home in Peru, Finally

An American in Peru

What time is it?

Every greeting starts with a buenos dias (good morning), buenas tardes (good afternoon or evening), or buenas noches (good night).  This is fine and dandy, but sometimes adds to my anxiety of beginning a conversation, entering a store, or asking for directions.  In addition to figuring out how to say what I want to say, I need to quickly determine what time it is.  Who pays attention to that anyway?  Usually I wait for the other person to greet me and copy them, or just say buenas and mumble the rest.

They pay for things differently

This is not one of my favorite things about Peru.  Usually the purchase of a simple item goes something like this; first you need to tell a sales clerk what you want, they print a receipt which you take to a different counter to pay.  Once you’ve paid, you get a second receipt to return to the first clerk so they can finally give you the item.  That’s how I bought my vacuum cleaner.  Buying a $15 alarm clock at an electronics store was even more complicated.  I told the clerk at the clock counter which one I wanted.  He printed the receipt and sent me to the pay counter where I waited in line and paid.  Then I needed to go to a third counter to retrieve the clock, but when I got there, the clock hadn’t made it from the original counter (which was less than 15 feet away), so I waited for the clerks to figure out the problem.  By the time I was holding the alarm clock in my hands, I could have made one from scratch!  Oy.

How much does this cost?

Unless you purchase an item at a store, or a restaurant with prices on the menu, the cost of most things is debatable.  When I ask how much an item costs, I usually get a ridiculously high number quoted to me (commonly known as the “gringo price”).  From here, I need to barter.  I laugh at the vendor and tell them I’m not an idiot and give them a more reasonable number.  We argue back and forth until we finally arrive at a compromise (which is probably still far more than I should be paying).  I have been given lines about how the exchange rate between Dollars and Nuevo Soles varies depending on what time of day it is or what district of Lima you’re in (not true).  Sometimes the vendor will pull out a calculator and begin quickly performing nonsense calculations, conversions, “discounts” and “taxes” as a part of their argument.

The tactics Charlie has given me to combat this include telling the vendor you will just go to the other guy across the street who is offering a better price, or showing him the money you’re willing to pay and telling him to take it or leave it.  The most common thing Charlie and I barter for is the price of a taxi ride.  The whole process feels uncomfortable and annoying, but is perhaps beneficial to my marriage.  I do believe that the constant bartering Charlie and I need to do throughout the day has drastically reduced the amount of energy either of us are willing to exert into daily bickering with each other.  Since we’ve been down here, I’ve heard nothing about how many pies a month I need to make to be a good wife (a common topic of debate from the past).

PDA

Where I buy my veggies

Back in the day, Charlie and I used to argue about our opinions on public displays of affection.  When we were at parties I didn’t like how he would either treat me like one of the guys, or ignore me.  I would say to him “Charlie, how are people going to know that we love each other?”  His reply was, “Why do other people need to know we love each other?”  Fine.  He had a point.  PDA is far more common here.  Every time I look around the park in front of my apartment, I notice at least one bench occupied with a couple kissing. If you get a good show, sometimes they’re making out…or even groping!  And not just teenagers, you see this across the ages.  It’s hard not to stare.    Charlie feels it’s insincere. He tells me that the men I see making out on park benches and whispering into their girlfriend’s ear probably have a wife at home or another girlfriend living in a different part of the city.  If you think about that way, it’s a little less endearing.  But for the most part, I think it’s nice to see people expressing their love for one another.  It’s better than fighting.

Kissing

Speaking of PDA, in Peru (and I think a lot of Latin America) everybody kisses everyone all the time!!!  When you are introduced to someone or meet up with a friend; most familiar greetings and partings are followed by a kiss on the cheek.  I kiss Gaby, I kiss this girl I keep seeing in the park (we talk while our dogs play together), I kiss Charlie’s boss, and I kiss Carlos, our driver.  It’s great!  Again, Charlie and I differ in our opinions of this. Charlie feels like the affection is not always genuine.  He points out that as a social obligation, you are forced to show affection to people you don’t know or don’t like.  Maybe it’s the “rubia puta” in me, but I love kissing everyone!  Oh well, different  strokes, different folks.

Dressing

If I keep walking around in workout clothes and flip flops, I’ll never fit in.  In the business district of San Isidro, Lima, where I live, people dress quite nicely.  Maybe this is a city thing as much as a Lima thing, nonetheless I feel the need to adapt.  Since my hair color, skin color and accent don’t help me, I figured if I start dressing the part, it might make me look more Peruvian.  So I went to a clothing boutique near my house and told the sales clerks I was looking for some nice pants.  By nice, I was thinking anything other than workout pants or baggy jeans.

They chose several pairs for me to try on.  The first two pairs I couldn’t get up over my thighs. By the third pair, basic black, slim hip huggers, the three sales clerks were determined.  As we faced the mirror, one stood behind me and gave instructions to hold my breath while the other two tugged the pants over my butt. Then each pulled in towards the middle until the button met the button hole to seal the deal.  Sucking in my gut as far as I could, they were able to pull the zipper up.  They all stepped back triumphantly and watched and waited for my opinion as I reluctantly studied the new look in the mirror.

Presenting it as a question, I suggested that maybe, just maybe the pants were one size too small.  The girls looked at me like I was crazy and told me to look at the fit of their pants, which, sure enough, fit just as tight if not tighter than mine. “Okay,” I thought to myself “when in Rome…” While I was talking myself into the purchase and trying to figure out how I would get the pants off, a sales clerk brought out a pair of four-inch stilettos.  Standing in them with ankles wobbling (I’ve never been very sturdy on my feet), she explained that this would make the pants the perfect height.  I purchased the pants and two nights later went shopping with Gaby to buy two pairs of stilettos: one three-inch, one four-inch.  I’ve been practicing wearing them, but keep a pair of flip flops in my purse when I go out in case I need to do any significant walking.  I must admit, the outfit is flattering.  No wonder everyone I greet wants to kiss me!

Posted by Danielle L. Krautmann, 02 Feb 2010

Related posts:

1. Arrival in Peru
2. Feeling at home in Peru, Finally
3. It’s the little things

click photo for a Nepal and VEC slide show

By Beau Miller

Volunteering in the Himalayas has never been more accessible, affordable, or important.

“As dew is dried by the morning sun,

So are mankind’s sins at the sight of the Himalayas.”

-         The Puranas

In this world there are mountain people and there are beach people. This one is for the mountain people and for the mountain people who don’t know they’re mountain people. There aren’t a lot of chances to live in an honest-to-God Himalayan village these days. Here’s one: Village Environment Community Gangkharka (VEC), a small NGO with a long name.

Based out of Gangkharka village in Helambu, Nepal, this organization has ten years experience performing healthcare and education projects, as well as sustainable development and heritage preservation. Helambu is a neglected region of Nepal, and VEC is the only NGO working in the area. While much of Nepal’s aid money goes to the Everest region, Helambu twiddles its thumbs. Or at least it has until now.

VEC built a school in Gangkharka last year, in the face of an exodus from Himalayan villages. Its president, Dorjee Netup Sherpa, a former trekking guide, has committed himself to the development of his home region. His commitment shows from the very moment he meets you at the airport in Kathmandu.

photo credit: Anna Tomasdottir

Where is it?

Helambu is located about fifty miles north of Nepal’s capital city, Kathmandu. But it takes about ten hours to get there on the windy mountain roads—four-and-a-half by jeep or bus, and the rest on foot. Perched on a Himalayan mountainside is Gangkharka, a tiny village whose extinction in the near future might have been guaranteed if it weren’t for VEC. Now it’s the site of a boarding school with 108 students, ages 4-15, and a full faculty and staff, including a Buddhist lama who teaches the students Tibetan and meditation.

Distressed by the lack of jobs in Kathmandu and unwilling to go abroad, many families originally from the Helambu area are now returning to Gangkharka and nearby Bangdang village, encouraged by VEC’s progress.

Volunteering

Volunteers with VEC can fill any number of roles in Gangkharka, and they can do so without the costly program fees of volunteering with many other organizations in Nepal. For about three dollars a day, volunteers are set up with a host family close to their volunteer placement. They are given Sherpa or Nepali language lessons to help ease communication, and they have the opportunity to leave a very tangible and positive contribution to the lives of the Helambu Sherpa, Tamang, and Yolmo populations.

Volunteers can choose between teaching at the Pasang Memorial Community Boarding School, Gangkharka’s first and only boarding school, working on the village’s organic farm, or serving as a member of a team of medical volunteers. Opportunities abound. Any number of projects could be going on during a volunteer’s stay. VEC currently has funding proposals being reviewed for a new addition at the school as well as for the micro-hydroelectricity installation.

The organization is also working on creating athletic fields for the students at the school, so coaching may also be a possibility. Another project VEC is working on is the Helambu Histories project. Teams of volunteers and VEC staff, as well as some students from the boarding school will be interviewing elders in several Helambu villages to talk about their life experiences. The goal is to gather folk stories and the unique perspectives of Helambu people on crucial events in the region’s history, such as the Chinese invasion of Tibet and the increased contact with the West.

Upon arrival in Nepal, volunteers are met at the airport by Dorjee or a VEC staff member. Housing is coordinated prior to arrival, and a VEC volunteer has the chance to unload and rest before receiving an in-country briefing with VEC staff. Then, early one morning on an agreed upon date, the volunteer(s) and a guide make the trip to Gangkharka. The trek to Gangkharka is not terribly strenuous, but it is recommended that volunteers be in reasonably good physical shape. Gangkharka’s altitude is lower than that of Denver, Colorado, but it is possible to go as high as 14,000 ft. if one takes advantage of the discounted trekking available to long-term volunteers.

There is currently no internet in Gangkharka, but volunteers schedule guided trips to Kathmandu and relative civilization. There is a landline phone at the school where calls can be received, but otherwise volunteers may find themselves without many of the 21^st century comforts they are used to. There are bathing facilities available, if one considers a small shack with a big pot of heated water a bathing facility.

Why Volunteer Here

In Gangkharka, a volunteer’s time is rewarded with spectacular views of the Himalayas and a unique opportunity to live in a community renowned for its hospitality. What little the host families have, they share. Sitting inside a tidy, if more than a little smoky, Sherpa home, there will be plenty of opportunities to acquire a taste for the butter tea for which Himalayan communities are (in)famous. Few people on earth can make a stranger feel more at home than the people of Gangkharka—though a volunteer may find life more difficult to bear during the summer monsoon season.

The development work conducted by VEC may be a last ditch effort to preserve Helambu communities like Gangkharka. The culture is facing its greatest crisis as many parents pursue job opportunities overseas, leaving their children in the care of boarding schools often much less keen to the idea of cultural preservation than the school run by VEC. Instead of the colorful pullover jumpers, smart little ties, and shiny black loafers that constitute many school uniforms in Nepal these days, the students in Gangkharka where traditional Himalayan dress: chubhas for girls and Tibetan-style tunics for the boys.

The potential for sustainable development gives Gangkharka an advantage to ensure this can happen, and international volunteers have the opportunity to contribute to its revitalization and the preservation of a culture that has long captured the imagination of the West.

If You Go:

Website: www.vec.org.np

Recruiter/FAQs: vecvolunteers@gmail.com

There’s a $75 processing fee for VEC (airport pickup, guide, housing coordination, language lessons, etc.). The $3 a day goes directly to the host family.

Beau Miller is a Master’s candidate at Syracuse University’s Maxwell School of Citizenship & Public Affairs. He has worked as a volunteer Project Manager for VEC, and his writing has appeared in The New Brewer and Adbusters.

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1. Gangkharka village, Nepal Slide Show
2. Ask GoMad Nomad: Little money, still want to travel
3. Volunteer in the West Bank

By Stephen Bugno

First, what exactly do you mean by the “the backpacker’s scene”?

We’ve all been there. The crowded hostels of Europe. The well-beaten path along the Turkish coast. Khao San Road or Jalan Jaksa’s traveler’s ghettos. You’re getting tired of spending so much money to be so far away from home only to fritter away much of your time drinking and talking your next travel move with other western backpackers.

Getting beyond the backpacker’s scene is getting off the well-trodden path. It’s taking the path lesser traveled. It’s losing sleep, taking chances, having more encounters. It’s moving out of your comfort zone.

A sheep herder in rural Kazahkstan

So how do I get beyond the backpacker’s scene?

Choose your destination wisely. Don’t go to the Greek Isles during the summer. Go to Kyrgyzstan instead. You want to lose the tourists and even other travelers as well? You want fewer backpackers? Don’t linger in Bangkok. You want to actually have to use your phrase book? Go to Mongolia or the Republic of Georgia or Syria. If you do end up going to Florence in the high season, you’re going to have to get creative in order to circumvent the hordes of retired American tourists and generate a unique travel experience for yourself.

Ditch your guidebook. I know it sounds like a drastic measure to take, but guidebooks do a good job of keeping all of us tucked snugly in at friendly Mohammed’s hotel in Amman. It points us in the direction of that delectable, authentic, and inexpensive café downtown that all the German’s are eating at. Remember how you met that couple from New Zealand in Damascus and ran into them again in Cairo a month later?

Bring a tent and sleeping bag. When you carry a tent, you have a place to sleep wherever you are at the end of the day. Especially in a place like Norway, which has a law that allows you to camp freely in the wilderness. Even when this law doesn’t exist, many times you can get away with setting up your tent just out of sight. Traveling with a sleeping bag allows you the opportunity to crash at a bus or train station or even in a city park if need be. Often times when locals see your desperation, they’re more likely to invite you home.

Don’t plan so much. Not having a strict plan allows for improvisation in your trip. Allow spontaneous decisions to come to life. Go home with people you just met. Stay an extra day at your new friend’s apartment. The most memorable part of your travels are usually those unplanned.

Cycling around Copenhagen with a Dane

Get online. Sometimes planning is good. Sign up and use a web site that connects travelers with locals. Try Couch Surfing or Hospitality Club to keep you to stay away from hotels and hostels and into the homes of locals. Then you’ll be walking in residential neighborhoods you wouldn’t normally be in and riding bus routes that tourists don’t usually ride. Your hosts know the best places to get coffee, pizza, or kimchi. And these nice people will most likely introduce you to their friends. You all of a sudden know 12 people in Cork and you just arrived.

Get on the bus. Carry a good map. Ride to the outskirts of the city. Get off the bus. Walk. Throw away your map. Don’t worry about getting lost. Someone will help you find your way back.

Don’t always take reliable or quick transportation. Cancel your domestic flights. See the countryside the way it’s meant to be seen. Don’t take the inter-city express bus. Get on the pueblo bus. You might lose some sleep, but you’ll be riding next to Guillermo the farmer and his newly hatched chicks while stopping in every village between Porto and Madrid.

Stick up your thumb. Don’t listen to those naysayers who tell you it’s dangerous. Sure it can be, but so can taking the bus or flying. People like company in their cars. Stand on the on-ramp, put your pack in front of you, and take off your sunglasses. Stay positive. Before you know it, you’ll be in Bordeaux and will have met several French people that you may or may not have understood a single word with.

Camping in Nagorno Karabakh

Get out to the countryside and small towns. Show up in a town that has nothing of touristic interest. You will actually meet a local. The conversation with babushka might start by her asking why in God’s name you have come here. Don’t do a whirlwind tour of the European capitals. Sure, visit Moscow, but ramble through a string of Russian towns that you will never remember the names of.

Stay a while. If this technically moves out of the realm of traveling and into vagabonding, so be it. Linger to absorb the local culture. Organize a few weeks exchange in Switzerland using Help Exchange. Volunteer on an organic farm in New Zealand with WWOOF. Teach English in Madrid or rural China. Take a cooking course in Thailand or study meditation or yoga in India. Do a long-distance walk or pilgrimage. Do a cycle tour of Nova Scotia.

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Carefree travel on the Cheap

Stephen Bugno has been traveling and teaching English abroad for the better part of ten years. His articles and essays have appeared in The San Francisco Chronicle, The Philadelphia Inquirer, The Seattle Times, and Transitions Abroad magazine. He edits the Gomad Nomad Travel Mag.

Related posts:

1. Carefree Travel on the Cheap
2. The Parisian’s Paris
3. Chilled out in Tobago

by Gilbert Carlson

Have you ever had the desire to be totally liberated? Wanted to hit the road with only a few things in your backpack, little or no money, and trust completely in the world around you? Travel not caring where you sleep, how you move about, or where your next meal will come from?

This guide to carefree travel is based on an overland trip from Palestine to Paris, focusing mainly on the last part, which took three friends and I through the Balkans, Italy and Germany before reaching France.

The trip was motivated mostly by necessity; we had to make it home on an extremely small budget since we had spent the past few months volunteering. One of the self-imposed conditions was to keep a two Euro limit on accommodation every night. The other was that transportation would have to be kept in the same proportions—that meant hitch-hiking most of the way.

When traveling long-term in this manner, it is necessary to first eliminate the negative anticipation otherwise referred to as worrying. The needs that a traveler usually worries about are essentially transportation, accommodation and food; assuming safety is not an issue. Carefree travel eliminates the first two and very often the third. The main requirements are optimism, creativity and a tent.

Carefree travel is very much a faith-based concept. The traveler must believe in himself and the world around him. Remaining optimistic is crucial. For those who favor realism to optimism, keep in mind that reality is your worst enemy. The minute you start believing in reality you’d better go book a flight and a hotel room. That is to say give up.

This form of worry-free travel only works for those willing to walk out randomly into an unknown situation and trust their luck and the good nature of other humans to take care of them.

The trip: How we did it

The free-spiritedness really kicked off with our meeting point in Bulgaria. After a few days together in Istanbul, the four of us had to split up and arranged to meet at an Ace of Base concert in the very small town of Lovech, in central Bulgaria. Our meeting time was as vague as our meeting point. The instructions were to be in the town by early afternoon and be as visible as possible.

All this turned out to be completely unnecessary as we all naturally met up near one of the beer stands at the town’s festival. So there we were in a small town in Bulgaria where we knew absolutely no one and had no plans beyond the Ace of Base gig. We never once thought about accommodation even though we were in a mountainous area in early May and only had a two-person tent and two sleeping bags for the four of us.

We met some Bulgarian ravers who invited us to a weekend-long house rave party with drum and bass playing all day and all night, an endless supply of alcohol, as well as strange characters and language barriers. We walked out of town the next morning, found our highway and hitched to Sofia.

Our plan had been to get to Skopje that night, but after a bad decision in one of the cars we got stuck on the ring road. We ended up spending the night in Sofia with a last-minute-arranged couchsurfer and hitched out the next morning. Leaving Sofia was slow and painful and we thought we’d never make it to the capital of Macedonia before nightfall.

We arrived at the very quiet border crossing in between Bulgaria and Macedonia in the late afternoon. The sun was getting low and the altitude meant the air was already a bit chilly and there were not many cars traveling this road. All signs pointed towards a cold and uncomfortable night in the mountains. We walked through the border crossing and looked around at the mostly deserted shops and buildings welcoming us to Macedonia. After a couple minutes on the side of the road a car took all four of us all the way to Pristina, which was our first-choice destination before reason made us opt for the more realistic goal of reaching Skopje by the end of the day.

These stories may sound like a series of lucky breaks but it’s interesting to consider that they all took place in the same 48-hour period which also happened to be the very beginning of the most absurd and random leg of our trip. To say, upon reaching Pristina, that we felt unnaturally lucky is an understatement.

How to liberate yourself while traveling

By traveling free, and I mean truly liberated, you are detached from obligations, reservations, hassles and other related problems. But how to get to this state?

Determination is key. Things don’t come easily when you rely on other people’s generosity for your necessities. Things might not even come at all but you still have to hang in there. Hitch-hiking is the most random and unreliable means of transportation and waiting for a car may keep you on the side of the road for as little as five minutes or as long as five hours.

Flexibility is a must. Accommodation may turn out to be a spare room in somebody’s house, a hotel lobby’s couch or perhaps a field in an empty lot. The uncertainty is what makes it exciting. It also makes it difficult for those travelers who expect everything to be handed to them. Of course we want the world and we want it now, but if now is five hours from now you’d better find a game to play on the side of the road.

Creativity one of the essential prerequisites to carefree travel, after optimism. Creativity comes in handy in every situation. You have no car, no house and no food and you have to make one or all of these elements appear. The important thing to keep in mind is that everything you need is out there and available. In any given city at any given moment there are empty rooms, almost every car has an empty seat in it, and every restaurant has extra food or leftovers waiting for you. All you have to do is figure out how to cross that bridge that separates you from what you need.

Obviously, things won’t come easily, at least not quite as easily as if you were to book ahead and pay full price for them. Being creative means being able to come up with unconventional ways of obtaining things. It means coming up with a quick story when required and being able to communicate on little or no common language through ideas and signs. Creativity allows us to overcome all the challenges that can’t be ignored.

Don’t be shy. In many situations all you have to do is ask. We walked into a Pizza restaurant in Pristina asking for free food and were served fresh hot pizzas made just for us. We asked a bar owner if we could stay after closing time to sleep and he let us. We asked internet cafes for a couple free minutes and they let each one of us use a computer for more than an hour. If you don’t ask, people won’t think to offer. We were sitting outside a mall in Croatia on our way to Venice when a man walked up and offered us rooms for rent. Instead of just declining the offer I randomly asked him if he was driving to Venice in the afternoon. There was absolutely no reason to believe he might be and as it turned out he wasn’t, but after a couple minutes he came back and offered to drive us to the first rest area on the highway. That ride saved us hours of waiting in the suburbs of Zadar.

Lower your standards. Chances are you won’t be getting a shower and a hot meal every night. You’ll probably sleep outside many nights and go several days without washing. Most personal hygiene can be taken care of with a bottle of water, but you have to learn to live without showering for days at a time. Travelling near water is a good way to ensure basic hygiene. Lakes, seas and rivers are great to wash in if you’re traveling in warm climates. Sleeping outside is not as bad as it sounds, especially when the weather is nice. In Trogir, Croatia, we found an open building and borrowed cushions from the nearby cafes. It turned out to be one of our most comfortable nights. Keep your expectations low and you’ll be pleasantly surprised by what comes your way.

Travel light. Anything beyond one change of clothes, a sleeping bag, tent and a basic set of toiletries is excessive. Unfortunately, we had two hookah pipes and three guitars for four people, but things would have been a lot easier with just the minimum. Keep in mind that you will be carrying everything on your back, throwing your stuff into and out of cars all the time, and during some rides you’ll have to hold your stuff on your lap.

Why travel this way?

One question I feel obligated to answer after giving all these tips for carefree travel is: why do this to yourself? Why wouldn’t you just get a job and save up the necessary money to go travelling in a more comfortable, typical way?

The most important benefit is the feeling of liberty that comes with such an experience. Rarely have I felt as free as when I found myself standing on the side of an unknown road in an obscure country with no local currency in my pocket, no knowledge of the language, and no sense of direction or time. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, no deadlines to meet, trains to catch, or bookings to confirm. When you know that you’ve just traveled a certain distance in one direction but you could turn around and go another direction and it wouldn’t make any difference to anyone, you know you’ve reached a certain degree of freedom that few people will be fortunate enough to experience in their lives.

The second major benefit is all the opportunities that arise only for the , carefree traveler. Could I have gone fishing in the rivers of southern Kosovo and spent the night in a farm in the mountains if I’d been taking trains and staying in hostels? Would I have spent the night in a sixteenth century monastery in Montenegro if I hadn’t been picked up by an Orthodox monk on a small country road? Would I have met so many interesting people if I hadn’t had to walk up to them and ask for assistance? On this trip I experienced a lot more of the Balkans than I would have, had I travelled like the typical Euro-rail-pass-carrying backpacker.

The third benefit is the complete absence of hassle. No longer do you have to get up early on your last day in a city to make it to the airport in time. You don’t have to find out how to get to the airport nor how much it will cost you. You don’t need to worry about making it to your hostel before they cancel your reservation. All these problems come with conventional travel and make it painful at times.

The fact that this way of traveling happens to be a very cheap way of doing things is a benefit, but in comparison to the other advantages, it seems so minuscule that it is hardly worth mentioning.

Is carefree traveling for you?

You don’t become the ultimate carefree traveler overnight and it isn’t a philosophy that everyone will embrace. But if you already have a tendency towards detachment from objects and you enjoy peace of mind more than a warm shower, then you should get used to it pretty quickly.

You’ll probably want to phase into it gradually: first by replacing overland flights with buses and trains, then switching to hitching when you can. Then you’ll start replacing hostel nights with couchsurfing, camping or urbancamping.

Before you know it, you’ll be wandering the streets of a city you’ve never heard of looking for cardboard and a bus stop to sleep in while looking forward to hitching to a lake the next morning to take your first bath in four days. You’ll find yourself sitting by the lake on a sunny day with nowhere to go that day and you’ll lie in the grass, stare at the sky and think to yourself “life is sweet!”

Related posts:

1. Ask GoMad Nomad: Little money, still want to travel
2. A Guide to Travel Guidebooks
3. Getting Beyond the Backpacker’s Scene