I’ve got this disease. The symptoms include restlessness
and a constant urge to drink beers in foreign countries. I
can’t keep a job or a girlfriend because I keep moving
around. I always have to have a plane ticket booked or a full tank
of gas in my car because I never know when I’m going to
relapse.
I think I caught it in Spain, or maybe Croatia. Either way,
I’ve been bitten by the travel bug and I don’t know of
any permanent solution except to keep moving.
It’s not a bad life, being a drifter, and I somehow manage
to feel strangely at home in most cities. It doesn’t matter
if I am playing backgammon in Turkey and haggling for saffron at
the Spice Bazaar, or having a beer with a local Serbian teenager
and chatting about the history of American punk music ““ as
long as it’s new, different and exciting, I’m OK, and
my disease is satiated.
Last year, I traveled for two months, and this summer I stepped
it up to three. I’ve been bouncing around so much that I
think I’m starting to feel more at home doing the nomadic
backpacker thing. I think the idea is to just hit the road with
reckless abandon, roll the dice, and see where chance takes you;
it’s almost always good.
When I visit a place, I like to meet the locals and learn the
cobble-stoned twists of the darkest alleyways. Trams squeal through
the streets, pedestrians scurry out of the way, and shop owners
call out to passersby. The smell of spiced lamb kebab mingles with
the fumes of petrol from the traffic-packed streets. The
loudspeakers on the local mosque sing out an eerie call to prayer
as the patrons of an Internet cafe clack away at their
keyboards.
Its an interesting world out there, and I urge everyone to get
out and see it.
Americans don’t travel enough. In fact, I rarely meet many
American travelers on the road. Sure, there are American tourists
snapping pictures of Buckingham Palace and the Eiffel Tower, and
there will always be a big group of kids, fresh out of high school,
smoking pot in Amsterdam, but even these travelers rarely venture
outside the tourist-friendly bubbles of the world.
Some people travel just so they can check a city off their list
of pretentious things to talk about at cocktail parties. They stay
in fancy hotels or trendy hostels and never talk to a local except
to buy a beer or ask for the check.
Australians, on the other hand, are great travelers. I meet them
all over the place, whereas Americans off the beaten path are hard
to come by.
America’s bad reputation in global politics might be
enough to put off some would-be travelers, but I’m sure there
are at least a few of you out there who are willing to experience
something new, regardless of the way other cultures feel about
President Bush.
It is extremely important to get out of your comfort zone and
experience the world. I urge anyone considering it to just take the
plunge and live life. We need more American travelers who can help
to dispel the stereotype of the “ugly American.”
As an American traveler, I’ve been greeted with both love
and hate, and I’m used to dealing with these American
stereotypes. For the most part people are genuinely interested in
Americans, and while they may hate American politics, they are
often quite excited to befriend American people.
I’ve met locals who have been kind enough to show me
around their city just for the sake of doing a nice thing. Some
will invite you to stay with them and their families, and some will
even cook you dinner.
Last year in Croatia, I was running late and about to miss my
train. A Croatian man I had met earlier while lost and looking for
the bus stop showed up with his car and saved the day. He drove me
all the way to the train station just because he knew I was running
late. I rarely experience kindness like that in the States.
To be sure, I’ve had bad experiences as well. A few months
ago I was smoking some hash at a dinner party in a small town in
the north of France at a Moroccan guy’s house when another
Moroccan friend of his found out that I was American. He started
saying some very angry things in Arabic, pointing at me, and making
it clear that he either didn’t like Americans or he just
didn’t like me (I did catch the words “America”
and “Bush.”)
I don’t speak Arabic or French, and I was pretty stoned,
so you can imagine what a tough spot I was in, being completely
unable to defend my country or myself. I had to sit there until
some of the other guests said some things that calmed him down (I
caught the words “California” and
“liberal.”)
If I could have talked to him myself, I would have tried to
explain that you can’t judge people by where they are from.
Governments can do terrible things, but that doesn’t mean
that all the people under that government are terrible. To think in
this way is to call every German a Nazi, every Russian a Communist,
and every Middle Eastern a terrorist. Sure, some Americans are
obnoxious, overweight, my-way-or-the-highway Republican cowboys,
but that’s a stereotype that doesn’t apply to me
““ or many other Americans.
If more Americans traveled and really took an interest in the
cultures of the world, we might be able to help change these
misconceptions.
So get out there and see the world; the adventure and the
experience far outweighs the danger, and in the process you can
help to show the world that people are people, no matter where they
are from.
Live it, love it and send me a postcard. Cheers.
Wannabe travel writers and backpacker travel addicts, send
your stories to jdeitchman@media.ucla.edu.