Kindness of Strangers

As with any week of the pre-trip planning phase, this past one had its ups and downs.  The difference is, the unpredictability is not ruffling my feathers as much anymore.  On Wednesday Maikael called my office, 15 minutes before I was to teach my first career development class of the semester. 

“Do you have a minute?” he asked.  The tension in his voice was palpable. 
“A minute,” I said, “but I gotta run to my class.” 
“Okay.  Well, maybe I’ll just tell you later.”
I could immediately feel the panic swelling.  This wasn’t going to be good news.
“What is it?” I asked.  “Is something wrong?”
“Yeah.”

Maikael proceeded to tell me that he had received a call from the human resources department of his organization, and they were no longer sure that he would be able to take the trip and remain employed.  This was our biggest fear coming true.  Although we’ve always had the agreement in writing, the possibility of something like this happening at the eleventh hour has always been the proverbial elephant in the room:  we couldn’t ignore it, but no one wanted to acknowledge its existence.  I’m sure I said something hysterical, and then an eerie calm took over.  Perhaps it was just the shock setting in, but we’ve overcome so many set-backs during this planning process that it simply felt like another hurdle to jump over.  As I made my way to the classroom, I heard every theatre director I’ve ever known collectively whisper in my ear, “Leave your baggage at the door.” 

And that’s just what I did for the next six days until this issue was resolved (save for one crying jag on Wednesday night).  After a number of conversations with The Powers That Be, Maikael was able to successfully get our plan back on track today. 

What I’ve come to realize through this experience is that there is no longer such a thing as “a normal week;” each seven-day period offers a novel experience.  This, I imagine, is what it feels like to be a baby; no wonder they cry so much.  The past weeks have been filled with phone calls to the pharmaceutical insurance company with inquiries about the co-pay for anti-malarials (”How do you spell ‘Malarone,’” the customer service specialist asked.).  We’ve called Western Union and PayPay and learned more than we ever wanted to know about foreign currency conversion rates.  We’ve had conversations with attorneys who specialize in international trade law, and I’ve talked with local real estate experts regarding how to rent properties.  We know the ins and outs of human resource minutae, and could tell you a lot about our health insurance plan.  I could give you detailed instructions on how to sign up for a Hostelling International membership, and can recite the different train routes in Portugal.  We know the best deals on international calling cards.  It’s not uncommon for my daily to-do list to have “Grocery shop” on one line, followed by, “Don’t forget to take typhoid pill after dinner!” on the next.  I’ve stopped expecting things to go as planned because, like a snowflake, no two weeks look alike anymore. 

One of my favorite episodes of The King of Queens involves Doug and Carrie agreeing to attend a seminar on purchasing a timeshare in exchange for a free weekend at a swanky New England bed and breakfast. Doug’s afraid to say “no.” Carrie’s a big meanie. Hilarity ensues. The underlying message of this episode seems to be this: how far are you willing to go to save a buck?

As it turns out, this theme is not only the makings of good situation-comedy, but a recurrent theme in round-the-world travel.  In recommending cost-saving tips for dining out, my Rough Guide’s First-Time Around the World states that, “Pizza gathering is not officially recommended, but it works. Travelers have been known to hang out in franchise pizza joints, order a small salad, then grab the untouched slices from other tables when groups get up to leave” (p. 94). It also warns me against becoming infected with budgetitis, whose symptoms include “walking an extra twenty minutes to find a bread shop whose loaves are three cents cheaper; full-blown arguments with taxi drivers over the equivalent of 25 cents; and skipping a meal because the local supermarket prices seem a little high” (p. 87).

Somehow, I don’t see myself falling prey to any of these scenarios. When faced with the question, “How far are you willing to go to save a buck?” my answer is typically a resounding, “Not very far.” However, since we’ve embarked on this planning process, I have noticed that I’ve developed an affinity for entering sweepstakes, large and small. In addition to entering to win lottery tickets and selling old stuff on Craig’s List, I’ve observed that my ears perk up when I hear about contests which seem to meet my specific travel needs.

For example, as I was driving home from work last week, I heard on the radio that KB Homes is hosting a contest where one can win a year of free mortgage payments. This immediately piqued my interest because we’ve been searching for someone to rent our home. If I won the contest, all of my worries would vanish!  As I listened further, I learned that all I needed to do was drop by any KB Homes location to pick up an entry ballot. This sounded suspiciously like Doug and Carrie’s situation all over again. I knew what would happen: I would be sucked into an hour and a half sales presentation on the joys of living in a KB community. Normally, this thought alone would be enough to drive the idea from my mind. Instead, I immediately went to the KB Homes website to locate the community nearest my house.

Today I spent 20 minutes filling out a Lonely Planet survey, which will make me eligible to win $2,000 from STA Travel. As a bonus for filling out the survey, they awarded me with a coupon to save 30% off my next purchase of a Lonely Planet guidebook. Normally I would have sniffed at that. But I’m pretty sure I whispered, “Sweet!” to myself.

I have a love/hate relationship with complexity. When compelled, I’ll attack a problem with a nausea-inducing dogma. As I recently discovered when purchasing a round-the-world (RTW) ticket, it turns out that this statement is not an exaggeration. Just because one is good at something, does not necessarily mean he enjoys it.

In January, I embarked on a process following a disciplined approach, trying to get the most value for our money, adhering to the tenets of a money-saving credo. I quickly honed in on the OneWorld alliance RTW ticket as it provides excellent coverage to many of the places we want to visit. I carefully constructed a draft of our RTW itinerary, daydreaming about all the mystical places we’d soon visit. My best laid plans, however, were soon dashed by the thick French accent of Michael from American Airlines, tersely stating that our total number of segments had been exhausted before even reaching South America. I imagine Michael sitting at his computer terminal, cigarette dangling from his mouth, admonishing the system for its slow response time while he literally pounds on the keyboard, hot ashes falling into the deep crevice between the “n” and “m” keys. Michael takes pity on my naivete, offering helpful tips, but I clearly need to hang up and regroup.

Over the next months, I greatly enhance my OneWorld acumen, learning the intricacies and nuances of our itinerary. I call American Airlines enough times to actually learn the cast of characters. There’s Robert, who has a clear understanding of the rules and a calm demeanor, and I always have a feeling of progress made when I hang up. I have no doubt that the Indians would say a phone call with him is an auspicious event. But then there’s Robert’s antithesis, in the form of the curmudgeonly Rebecca, who dismisses all your statements with a monotone “mmm hmm.” And lest you engage her personally, she’ll drone on about the No Child Left Behind Act, not letting you get a word in edgewise, only to force you off the phone prematurely, citing the long queue of phone calls. But, I become adept at navigating this stormy sea, once even hanging up when Rebecca answers so I can call back and speak to Michael instead. Soon, I’m citing policy to the agents, and most frightening of all, I’m usually correct.

One day, Elizabeth tells me about the 13 months website, a no-nonsense, “how to” primer on RTW travel. They had also chosen a OneWorld ticket, and had shrewdly saved thousands by originating their tickets in the UK. The catch? They enlisted good friends who lived in the UK to purchase the tickets on their behalf. But I don’t know anyone in the UK very well. No matter, this is just a technicality, I think to myself. Through much work, I actually track down a business contact, who graciously agrees to help me after he returns from a holiday in Tasmania. I know he’s a completely trustworthy person, but I can’t help but feel a bit strange asking such a huge favor of someone I’ve only met a couple of times. Elizabeth asks if I’m trying to fit a square peg in a round hole in a mission to save a dubious amount of money. Nonsense, I say.

I set everything up: a special UK-based itinerary, research one-way tickets over there, money transfer options, and detailed instructions for my colleague to carry out the purchase. I spend countless hours stressing over this scheme, which often carries over to my sleep. On a particularly bad day, I have what I imagine is the precursor to a panic attack, where something like a horrifically oppressive Jamaican humidty is pushing on me from all sides, making it difficult to breathe. No matter, I think, since I’m almost finished. But, it seems like every time I enact a new step to this plan, there’s a new obstacle to overcome. I no longer know how close I am to the finish line; it is a mirage that keeps moving. The final insult comes when I go to transfer the money overseas, and I find there’s a currency conversion fee that will significantly eat away our savings. Elizabeth and I do a back-of-the-envelope calculation, and find that our savings are negligible, certainly not the thousands I had pined for.

To our relief, I purchased the US-based ticket this morning. Perhaps in an alternate universe, with more time, I could have devined a more clever solution. Elizabeth had been correct when she pointed out that the 13 months people had good, long-time friends to help them out, when I was asking so much of my business colleague. Our time frame was short, and our stress levels ever-increasing. Sure, we may have saved a bit more money by going with the UK option, but at what cost? I feel a great weight lifted off me as I purchase the tickets, once again filled with excited anticipation for our RTW trip.

Easter is a day for miracles.  It represents a time of hope and faith, of rebirth, of new beginnings.  It is only appropriate, then, that Easter Sunday became the day that we finally — yes, finally — purchased our round-the-world plane ticket. 

I was truly beginning to believe that this day would never come.  This week was one of extreme ups and downs in the world of trip planning, and I had all but lost my faith.  Last week, I pleaded for something to get me excited about this trip again, and by Wednesday I was feeling optimistic that the purchase of the UK-based ticket was imminent.  As I drove to work that day, Men At Work’s iconic, Land Down Under blasted from my AM/FM radio (no CD player, thank you very much).  It’s a song that makes you want to get up and dance.  I couldn’t help but smile as I sang along, and began dreaming about the Australia portion of our trip.  Kangaroos, shrimp on the barbie, koalas, bloomin’ onions, people calling me “mate” and admonishing me to have “no worries.”  If I could have transported myself to that faraway land on a magical boomerang in that moment, I would have. 

I listened to the lyrics and, as if hearing the song for the first time, I realized it’s a song about RTW travel.  Allow me to translate: 

“Traveling…on a hippie trail” (Goa, India)
“I met a strange lady, she made me nervous” (any given hostel situation)
“Buying bread from a man in Brussels” (all I will be able to afford)
“He smiled and gave me a vegamite sandwich” (typical backpacker fare)
“Lying in a den in Bombay, with a slack jaw and not much to say” (so tired that I will lay my head wherever)

Honestly, I have no idea what this song is about.  I am no good at figuring out the hidden meaning of song lyrics, but in that moment the song spoke to me.  I realized it could become my anthem, my rallying cry; not just when I’m exploring the land down under, but throughout the trip.  It got me excited about traveling again. 

A few hours later, my hopes were dashed (yet again) when we discovered that the cost of sending our money to the UK via a Western Union wire transfer would run $540.  In the end, we made the difficult decision to give up the ghost and eat the extra cost of purchasing our ticket from the US.  We gave it our best shot, but it just wasn’t meant to be. 

The good news, though, is that we have tickets!  We’re really going on this trip!  You can check out our Itinerary page for the final version.  You’ll see some changes from the previous itinerary.  We added some additional time to Portugal, India, Australia, and New Zealand, and deducted some time from Italy (mainly due to anticipated cost) and Easter Island (timing of flights).  We decided at the last minute to swap Japan for Jordan.  Our ticket requires us to pass through Amman (twice), so we figured, “Why not?”  Our main excursion here will be to Petra.  For any of you who are Indiana Jones fans, you will recall that the final scene of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade takes place at Petra, an ancient city carved into the rosy rock within a crescent-shaped canyon, where Indy finds the Holy Grail.  Aside from being a movie set, Petra is one of the “Forgotten” Wonders of the World.  We thought it was a good trade-off for Egypt, as it at least keeps us in the spirit of exploring the ancient world.  And, as a “culinary tourist” with a particular affinity for Middle Eastern fare, I was delighted to read that Amman is described as a culinary crossroads for such cuisine. 

The next post will feature the literary stylings of Maikael, our guest blogger.  As the person primarily responsible for the transportation portion of this trip, he will provide an in-depth look at all the gory details of the past three months leading up to today’s purchase. 

To celebrate closing this chapter of the trip planning process, we’ll be cracking open a bottle of wine from The Land Down Under over our Easter dinner tonight.  Onward and upward — and Happy Easter!

Do you remember Debbie Downer? Anyone who’s talked to me lately might notice a striking resemblance between me and that down-in-the-dumps SNL character made famous by Rachel Dratch. I’m hoping it’s a case of that old adage,”it’s always darkest just before the dawn,” but everything seems to be getting me down these days. Pervasive news reports of the sinking dollar are depressing. As I was reading my Lonely Planet Portugal guidebook a few days ago, I couldn’t help but balk at the price of the “budget” accomodations; then I realized they would certainly be considered budget by euro currency standards. News of South American skirmishes has also planted doubts squarely in my mind — what if we have to circumvent our travels to Ecuador? World events can change on a dime, and I realize we might have to alter our itinerary at a moment’s notice at any point on this trip, potentially nixing a location we’ve dreamed about visiting for years. Maikael was incredibly sick last night, possibly a side effect of all these vaccinations, which doesn’t bode well for the next three weeks of upcoming shots. And the last week was filled with continued frustration over the purchase of our plane ticket. By Wednesday I was beginning to doubt if it would ever happen at all. I never knew something so simple could be so complicated.

I am a worrier, no doubt about it.  In order to stay sane on this trip I will have to exercise, as the Thai say, mai pen lai, which literally translates as “never mind.” In other words, I’ve got to let it go. Perhaps this emotional roller coaster ride is strength training for the journey ahead? I had another dream about the trip this week. My leg had been run over by a train, and when I got to the clinic, I had to wait hours to be seen by a doctor. Why? A bunch of people ahead of me needed vaccinations. When I was finally seen by a doctor, he prophetically proclaimed, ” Your leg is broken.” “I know that,” I said, “that’s why I’m here.” As the doctor ensconsed my leg in a cast, he said, “You won’t be able to get around well for eight weeks.” It was then that I realized that our trip started in a week. A wave of panic washed over me. What would we do? I woke up, reeling from the dream, and spent the next few days trying to sort out its meaning. There are the obvious themes of the need for patience, as well as the worry and anxiety that are bombarding my subconscious, a sense that catastrophe is lurking around every corner. But more importantly, legs, in dreams, symbolize our perceived support and strength. Clearly, I am feeling emotionally run over, flattened, broken.

If I competed in track and field events I would be a sprinter, not a long-distance runner. I am nothing but enthusiasm incarnate at the beginning of a race, attacking the field with gusto. But I quickly peter out, spewing a plume of spent energy in my wake. A task like planning a round-the-world trip requires the tenacity of a marathon runner; someone who races at a steady pace. I am no marathon runner, but I’m lucky enough to be married to one. If it weren’t for Maikael, I’d probably be lying in a pool of my own tears by now.

It’s time to start the race again. What I need is something to get me excited about this trip once more, a proverbial shot in the arm. But please, don’t send another vaccine.

Has anyone been watching Oprah’s Big Give on Sunday nights?  I happened to catch the first episode a few weeks ago, and the show’s primary goal seems to be employing hairbrained schemes to raise money.  The strangest part of the first episode was when one team organized a fashion show to raise money for a worthy cause:  helping a medical student to pay back his student loans.  When the models’ purses snapped open on the runway, waiting for the $1,000 bills to fly inside, I felt downright uncomfortable when not a single dollar was donated (but fear not:  Jamie Foxx came through in the end with a $50,000 donation).

But it got me to thinking:  what wacky ways could we employ to raise money for our trip?   I think we’re off to a good start.  Maikael sold his desk and I sold my old camera on Craig’s List (WTER value:  more than half of one airline ticket from Albuquerque to London; two nights in a Tokyo hotel; half of one night in an over-water bungalow in Tahiti).  Maikael entered us to win a round-the-world trip, which I quickly countered with a raffle to win 100 New Mexico Lottery tickets.  I have considered selling my plasma, but if anyone has other creative ideas to prevent me from doing so, I’m all ears.