When I travel, I want more than to see a place, I want to experience a place. I want to plunge into the local psyche and see what makes it like nowhere else in the world. I’m often amazed how with globalization looming over the world, places can be so different when you get to the heart of them.

It’s easy to scrape the surface of or completely miss the reality of a well-known city. As a travel lover who lives in a popular city to travel to, I notice it all the time. Some come here and get caught up in a quest for an idealized version of a past San Francisco. While San Francisco’s history is obviously important in making it what it is today, you’re not going to find some blissful hippie haven à la 1967 in the Haight. Others will not go beyond the recommended tourist attractions. I understand the bay side appeal of Pier 39, but what’s contained in it has little or nothing to do with what San Francisco is to the people who live here now

To get to the true heart of the city, you have to go beyond what you think you know about it and beyond the tourist recommendations. Why bother? Because your travels will be much richer. Because you’ll open yourself up to serendipitous moments. Because you’ll come home knowing one place much better and therefore know the world a bit better. Just about everything out there has already been discovered by someone else, but the souls of places are always out there waiting to be discovered by you. Here’s how to get started:

» Spend a good amount of time in one city. Spend time away from the tourist center. Stay in or heartily explore more than one neighborhood. Discover the complex layers that make a unique whole.

» Use public transportation. Move around the city with everyday people living their everyday lives.

» Wander through local shopping centers, from open air produce markets to the mall. Sample a fruit you’ve never tried before. Try on a type of clothing you’ve never worn before.

» Check out galleries and look out for street art. Look around you for the local concerns, the current popular aesthetic, and glimpses of where a place might be heading.

» Attend festivals and parades. Celebrate, participate in traditions, get immersed in colorful culture.

» Post up in cafes, parks, plazas, or other gathering places. People watch. Talk to people. Let people talk to you.

» Join people at a popular street food stand or cheap eatery. Stand on the sidewalk or sit on a stool while trying a popular local dish.

» Visit the local bars and clubs. Get loose and interact. Enjoy the local drink.

» Connect with residents to meet up with before you go. Or don’t and make connections along the way. Just try to connect.

» Walk until your feet hurt. Make turns on a whim. Find out where you are by getting lost.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

I took a step away from my typical travel ways when I went to Prague; I showed up with no ideas on what to see and never once glanced at a guidebook. The breakfast banter at my cozy hostel served as an excellent stand in.

In that little kitchen I learned about the city of Kutná Hora, about a two hour train ride away from Prague. Its main point of interest is what a group of French guys referred to as the “Church of Bones”. Intrigued, I followed up with them the morning after their excursion, and they confirmed that it had been worthwhile trip out of Prague. And in that way things fall into place when you travel solo, a fellow solo traveler from South Korea also planned on visiting Kutná Hora that day and invited me to go with her.

After an encounter with a hostile train station ticket agent and a few lost in translation moments, we got on a train to Kutná Hora. When we arrived, we were dropped off in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere. I liked it. I have this attraction to being a little lost — it’s where adventure starts to kick in and I develop that true sense of discovery. For that, a trip outside of Prague was worth it.

We eventually found a bus stop and waited and waited in the rain until a local bus came. On this bus we encountered the kindest people who understood that we had no idea where we were going. Despite the language barrier, they made every effort to confirm that we were on the right bus, to not let us get off the bus too soon, and let us know when we arrived at our stop. It was a nice change from the tourist weary locals of Prague, and these pleasant little interactions also made a trip out of the city worth taking.

Then we finally found the “Church of Bones,” officially called the Sedlec Ossuary. It’s a site with a long and unique history. In the late 1200s, a monk from Sedlec traveled to the Israel and brought home dirt from the Holy Land which he sprinkled on the cemetery. As word spread, the Sedlec cemetery became an auspicious place for Central Europeans to be buried. In the 1300s and 1400s, the plague and the Hussite Wars greatly increased the number of burials here. Eventually, the skeletons were exhumed in the 1500s, supposedly by a half-blind monk. In 1870, the well-to-do Schwarzenberg family hired a woodcarver named František Rint to organize the massive amounts of bones. The artistic license he took with arranging the bones is what draws visitors to the tiny town.

Here and there in Prague, I’d gotten glimpses into the darker sensibilities of where I was, and the ossuary in Sedlec fully revealed a macabre aesthetic beneath the mass appeal of the pretty tourist sites. Inside, we entered a chapel that was part catacombs, part installation art:

The artist signed and dated his work in bones.

The Schwarzenburg family coat-of-arms.

There’s more to the Kutná Hora area than the ossuary. Nearby Sedlec, in the actual city of Kutna Hora is the incredible architecture of the Gothic St. Barbara’s Church.

Statues along a walkway at St. Barbara’s Church rival those of the Charles Bridge in Prague.

Overlooking the town of Kutna Hora.

Back at the Kutna Hora train station.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

A couple weeks ago, a Facebook friend posed a question about whether she should do a multiple day hike to get to Machu Picchu or take the train to save time. Before I expanded the list of comments, I already knew what to expect based on my own experience with making that decision. My thoughts were correct. The majority of the responses could be summarized like this: “Do the trek so you can leave Peru with no regrets!”

I chimed in as the only person who overtly spoke positively about taking the train, which is how I got to Machu Picchu. It was a great experience for me. I had a fantastic travel buddy for the train ride and exploring Machu Picchu, I got back to Cusco in time to celebrate Peruvian Independence Day, and I followed through on my overall goal which was to spend the larger portion of the trip in Bolivia exploring remote corners of a remote country. I never look back and say, “Man, I wish I’d done the trek to Machu Picchu!” It simply was never important to me. It may be many people’s dream, but it’s not mine.

I think real honest enthusiasm from travelers who hiked the Inca trail sparked the trek-to-Machu Picchu fervor. But the “must do!” hype around it speaks to a larger theme of urgent, consumption-oriented travel. In the end, is it really worth it to obsessively tick off boxes and fixate on one particular popular experience when there are many equally fulfilling alternatives to that?

I certainly have succumbed to this kind of travel. I’ve rushed through places, trying to see as much as was humanly possible in a short period of time, driven by a well-intentioned mentality that life is short and I may never return to those places again. I still value the idea of making the most of your time in a place, but the numbers game doesn’t seem as important as it used to. While I love the experience of seeing so many different things, I’ve found that rushing through the world and ticking off boxes can limit what you truly see in the long run.

Of course, there are exceptions. Sometimes I am in some exceptionally unique far away place for a specific reason (for example, visiting my mom in Namibia over the holidays or going to India for a wedding) and squeeze more into a limited time than I’d like.  But for trips that I come up with, I’ve begun to plan for longer amounts of time in fewer places.

I didn’t expect to encounter so many people who think that is a terrible idea. I often feel like I have to justify my decisions to spend a long time in one spot, return to place I’ve already visited, or to not do a “must-do” experience.

I met a group of guys from Ensenada when I first returned to Oaxaca last summer. They’d stayed in the city for a couple days and then left for more adventures around the state. They came back to Oaxaca city the day before I left to go back to Mexico City. When I saw them again, the first thing one of them said to me was, “Wow, you’re still  here?!”

“Yes,” I replied. “But I’m leaving tomorrow!” As soon as I added that second part, I knew it wasn’t necessary. Sure, I’d missed out on plenty of potential opportunities in Mexico and elsewhere by revisiting the small city of Oaxaca for the second summer in a row. But I left knowing the city even better, having seen nearby places I hadn’t been to on my first visit, and knowing that my passion for it wasn’t a fluke — it’s one of my favorite places in the world.

Sure, I missed a great challenge and amazing scenery by not trekking to Machu Picchu. But in Bolivia, I encountered unexpected challenges in stunning places over and over. I trekked through a swamp in the Amazon, through an ancient fern forest to the top of a mountain, across an island in one of the highest lakes in the world and hardly encountered foreigners other than the ones I was with. I wouldn’t trade any of these experiences for the trek to Machu Picchu.

Life is short and the world can seem overwhelmingly huge for an adventurous spirit. But one of travel’s greatest lessons to embrace is how small you are in comparison to the world. You may not be able to see everything, but you can make the most of what you do see — and making the most of a place is subject to the traveler’s own ideas, not some list created by someone else.

In this world of limitless potential experiences, find out what you really want to explore and do that as much as you can. And remember that regretting what you could not do or didn’t have the time for on your travels is a choice. There is always another option: gratitude for what you did experience.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

When I arrived in Prague, I had a strange sensation that I later identified as “tourist shock”. My mouth hung open as I observed the magnitude of the crowd at Old Town Square for the first time and wondered how the Charles Bridge could withstand the tourist masses. I quickly realized that my perception of “touristy” had been heavily skewed by the kind of places I’ve visited over the last few years. The backpacker-oriented destinations I’ve been to in Asia and Latin America really have nothing on summertime Prague.

While I was surprised, I could also easily see why so many people had flocked to the beautiful and historic city of Prague in the summer sun. I decided to get caught up in the tourist masses for a couple days and enjoyed it. I took a free walking tour with a huge group of people and unabashedly explored the city with my camera hanging from my neck. In the end I found few traps, but ultimately a tourist trail that was worth taking:

The west end of the Charles Bridge.

Underneath the Charles Bridge in Malá Strana, a historic neighborhood on the west bank of the Vltava river.

I’m not sure why, but marionettes are popular in Prague. Tourist shops are full of them.

Old Town Square.

I saw these huge crowds in Old Town Square twice before I found out what they were looking at. I was amused at all these people with their cameras held up high, waiting so intently for something to happen…

… And I was more amused when I later found out that they were look at this, the Prague Astronomical Clock. People get excited about it because every hour, on the hour, it like, does stuff. Some of the features, like the skeleton in the upper right corner, are animated. The clock itself is cool looking and an impressive 600 years old. But apparently, the animation part of it is so underwhelming that it’s earned spots on lists of most overrated attractions in Europe. That doesn’t stop people from wanting to see it for themselves.

A Franz Kafka memorial in the Jewish Quarter.

The Basilica of St. James is full of artistic detail inside and out, but that’s not what its known for. A legend tells us that a man once tried to steal a Virgin Mary statue from the church. But before he could finish his theft, the statue gripped his arm tightly and wouldn’t let go. The only option was to cut off his arm, and what is supposed to be the thief’s severed limb still hangs in the church today.

The Old Jewish Cemetery.

There are so many tombstones because when this cemetery was built, and for quite some time thereafter, Jews were discriminated against and given very limited space in Prague. This led to graves being layered on top of other graves, as many as twelve deep.

One of Prague’s most famous buildings, often referred to as the “Dancing House”. I wanted to like this building, but seeing it in person, in the context of the rest of the city, I just couldn’t

It’s clear that Prague is a city that focuses on tourism. These cleanup crews with extra large vacuum cleaners were everywhere the tourists were.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

While hosteling in Berlin, I quickly realized that even if you sit out the Saturday night partying, the party will eventually make its way to you. That was especially true in the nightlife heavy neighborhood of Friedrichshain I stayed in at the beginning of my trip.

In my hostel dorm room, there was a lively Minnesotan who occupied the bunk above me. When he arrived, he’d shared his story of forgetting his passport on a plane, subsequently being thrown into jail in Spain, and getting deported to Ireland where he applied for a temporary passport and waited to rejoin his travel partners in the next country on their itinerary. This experience led him to get a large and poorly done tattoo on his side that said, “Live Free Or Die.” I could tell he was the kind of person that had a knack for hurtling himself into ridiculous situations.

That night, I saw him enjoying more than enough drinks at the hostel bar. Later, I was shocked to see that he’d made it back to the room intact with all of his belongings. He even had his phone with him. Everyone in the room knew this because as he slept deeply, his phone alarm kept going off in the wee hours of the morning and he didn’t hear it. Finally, one of my Aussie roommates took matters into her own hands. She climbed up, found his phone and turned it off for him.

The sun rose early that Sunday morning and the most brilliant sunshine I’d experienced in Berlin thus far made its way through gaps in the curtains. In addition to the Midwesterner’s alarm, beyond the window I’d been hearing curious sounds. There’d be several minutes of techno music and cheering, then it would stop for a bit, then it would start again. This went on all morning.

After checking out of the hostel and making my way to a public transit station, I discovered the source of what I’d been hearing. There were about a dozen people with a stereo system on cart, partying in the station. There was also a whole police force trying to get them to turn off their music and leave. They’d turn off the music for a little bit, then run away from the cops and start the music again. Eventually the police gave up and left. The group cheered and finally, they could continue their party uninterrupted.

With the help of those timid cops, I made it to the right public transit station and with the help of other backpackers, I took the right train to the Berlin Central Station. As much as I’ve traveled solo, foreign train stations still often revert me back to a nervous rookie traveler. I blame this on growing up in car-centric American suburbs. Once I arrived at the Berlin Central Station, I could not figure out what the signs meant, nor could I understand the information on my ticket. I’m not sure how, but I made it to my train just in time. Never mind that I’d entered on the far end and had to walk through several cars before I reached my car, I was on the train and on my way.

To my surprise, the seating process was thoroughly chaotic. Some people like me had paid a couple extra Euros to reserve a seat. Others bought a ticket or booked a trip with a Eurail pass without being assigned a specific seat. When I finally made it to the correct car, the seating mayhem had caused a traffic jam.

When I got to my seat, it was being occupied by a hippie-hipster from Scandinavia. He got out of my seat with no problem, but he and his body odor-heavy trio of friends had many arguments before finding seats that weren’t taken. Things finally began to settle down as the seatless found seats and suitcases and backpacks were jammed into every available corner of the train car. It quieted down further as the hungover denizens put in their earbuds and fell asleep.

And southward we went out of the city and into fields of sunflowers. You have no idea how badly I want to hop off the train and run through them. I drifted in and out of sleep through southeastern Germany — the quaint countryside, Dresden, beautiful waterways, and forested hillsides. Eventually, I opened my eyes to see more rustic looking homes and signs in new language. We’d crossed the border into the Czech Republic.

Prague was a “Why not?” addition to my itinerary. To be honest, the cultures of Central and Eastern Europe don’t entice me in the same way that cultures of desert and tropical locations do. But I had a decent amount of time to spend in Berlin, and Prague seemed like a good option for a side trip.

After crossing the border, I found myself more excited than I’d expected to be. I found myself intrigued by signs written in a completely unrecognizable language and by the fact that I was entering a place I didn’t know much about. I hopped off the train feeling very ready to explore.

I visited the ATM to take out some Czech crowns, the local currency. Outside the station, the taxi drivers immediately got a whiff of fresh tourist and presented me with some laughable rip off offers. When I told them I planned on taking public transport, they shook their heads and very convincingly said that was an outrageous idea as the walk to the trolley I was taking was just too long.

For a split second, I almost believed them, but then I regained my wits and followed the detailed directions that were emailed to me by the hostel I’d booked. It turned out to be a short walk across a park to the street car stop. The trolleys were very clearly marked and when I got on the one I was waiting for, locals gave me friendly smiles as lugged my backpack on board. It was a quick ride to my stop and from there, it was just a couple blocks to the hostel. So simple.

I rang the buzzer and entered the Art Hole Hostel which is housed in an old building. The crafty and cozy interior was a welcome change from the sober and spacious “Industrial Palace” I’d stayed at in Berlin. The Slovakian receptionist was incredibly friendly and in short period of time I had many suggestions on where to eat, what to do, and where to go for the best views of the city.

The front desk and some of the hostel dorms were located on the first floor of the building, and my dorm room was on the third floor. As we walked up the stairs, the receptionist explained that the second floor was occupied by the Embassy of Congo, which I thought was an entertaining addition to the quirkiness of the space.

I settled in and went to dinner at Lokal, one of the recommended spots for Czech food. Aside from the smoking inside, the restaurant’s modern and creative atmosphere combined with the emphasis on slow food and local ingredients made me feel like I could’ve been in San Francisco.

While the setting was great, food in this part of the world isn’t exactly the most flavorful. For me, the meal was a bit of a wah-wah. But sometimes in this city, what you’re washing the food down with is more of a focal point than the food. And in Prague, a mug of fresh Czech beer can almost make up for the cuisine.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

The cloud infused evening sunlight gives the city a golden glow and the gracefulness of dusk prophesizes the night’s mood. I walk across the Oberbaum Bridge from Friedrichshain to Kreuzberg where huge murals by Blu welcome me to the neighborhood.

This is my first time crossing into what used to be the former West Berlin. It has an appearance that is slightly more what I would have expected of a German city, except with more accents of grittiness. Architecture is important in this city. Even if you loose track of the Berlin Wall, the look of the buildings around you can often tell you where it once was.

I walk the streets of a lively part of the neighborhood in search of a place to have dinner. I see a small Vietnamese restaurant that looks promising. The waitress wants to know if I mind sitting indoors. All of the tables outside are taken as people are enjoying the lingering hours of summer sunshine after all that rain. Inside the restaurant, the windows are wide, candles are lit, and they are playing music by Nina Simone. I tell her I don’t mind sitting inside.

I enjoy the solitude and the promise of more compelling places to explore. I like the way the restaurant is illuminated by evening sun and candlelight. I have a delicious bowl of soup and a glass of wine. I have a good book to read. And I’m listening to Nina Simone sing the blues in her raw, masterful way that transforms bitter to sweet.

On this night, the little things have combined so perfectly and I’m indulging in it fully. Right now I exist only in this simple, perfect moment.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

My row mate and I had the easy camaraderie that comes when you realize that boarding has closed and the third person in your row of three will not be joining you. I unbuckled my seat belt and slid into the window seat that I would have picked had I been able to check in earlier. We smiled at each other as we looked forward to a little extra room and two whole armrests each on our 10 hour flight.

We chatted as we prepared for take off. I learned that he was originally from Northwestern England, close to Wales. He had just finished a California vacation with his family of four. His wife and two teenage kids were seated in the row behind us. They had traveled up and down the state and inland to Yosemite National Park. I was glad to hear that they had thoroughly enjoyed their time in my home state.

I explained that I was stopping in London on my way to Berlin, a last minute trip sparked by acquiring enough frequent flyer miles for a free flight. We continued to talk about travel and life as our plane taxied.

We took off during a gorgeous sunset and I looked down at the misty coast of California taking in the blessedness of it all — where I was going, where I’ve been, where I live.

Then came the announcement that we had reached cruising altitude and a ding signaled that the seat belt sign was being turned off. A few people got up and many more decided to sit back, relax, and enjoy the quality selection of free movies. I could see the airplane seats start recline in domino effect form.

When it reached our row, I joined in. As usual, I was not thrilled with the seat in front of me going down, but like many others, I understand and partake in it because I am not willing to sit upright for 10 hours with my head unnaturally pushed forward by the airplane seat.

To say that my row mate was unhappy when the person in front of him started to recline his seat all the way back would be an understatement.

“I can’t see my telly!” he shouted as he pushed and pounded on the seat in front of him. My row mate was very tall, and I could see that the seat was pressed up against his already cramped knees. I could also imagine that because of his height, optimal viewing of the dinky little TV screens could be harder to achieve with the seat in front of him reclined. But still, his air rage was surprising to see. And the person in front of him was not having it.

I got a little nervous as I recalled an story my mom had shared with me just a couple months before. It was about a flight that had to return to the airport that it departed from because of an overheated argument about seat reclining. One of our family friends happened to be on that flight.

When I read the article, it was the first time I’d ever even given any thought to whether or not you should recline your seat. And I noticed that in the article and some of the comments, the sympathy seemed to lie with the man who was upset with the person in front of him for reclining his seat. Did I miss the you’re-not-supposed-to-recline-airplane-seats memo? After all, what is the purpose of having seats that recline a certain amount if it’s a faux pax to recline them the full amount?

I get it that some people are tall and probably shouldn’t have to pay extra for legroom. But at the the same time, why should the person in front of them feel like they are restricted? What if the person who wants to recline has a back problem or another health issue that would make it even more uncomfortable than it already is to sit upright throughout the flight?

Luckily, on my flight, my row mate and the man in front of him grudgingly reached compromise and no physical fight broke out. My row mate’s initial pleasant demeanor was eventually restored and throughout the flight, he helped me interpret the Welsh accent of our flight attendant.

There were no more arguments for the rest of the flight to London, but the incident at the beginning stayed on my mind. I’ve brought up this story with frequent fliers both short and tall and have gotten very mixed feedback. This includes some shorter travelers who feel that it’s rude to recline your seat all the way and some taller fliers who feel that fellow tall people need to deal with it or pay extra for a seat with more legroom.

What are your thoughts?

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

Hostel Kokopelli, a clean, colorful, and welcoming hostel in Lima where I kicked off my first big solo trip.

When I travel on my own, where I choose to stay can make a huge difference in my overall experience in a location. In my second post for my solo travel for beginners series, I suggested that hostels were excellent place to begin if you want to meet people while you’re traveling solo. I know that some people who are squeamish about hosteling will immediately start backing away at that suggestion.

But I think that everyone is more capable living differently or more simply than they are used to, especially when in the scheme of things, it’s such a brief period of time. With just a little bit of research, in many locations you can find a variety of hostels that appeal to a variety of travelers.

When I was planning my first big solo travel trip, I browsed some of the hostel websites and would often arbitrarily reserve rooms at hostels that had good ratings. While this might guarantee a decent bed to sleep in, I’ve found that if you’re traveling solo, it’s often better to look a little deeper into what a hostel is all about. Here are some of the things I consider before I book a hostel:

» Safety and Location

Sometimes I’ll see a hostel review that says something like, “This hostel is located in a dark, decrepit alley and it’s really hard to find… but it’s a good hostel!” Um, no thanks. Safety and location are first and foremost. If it’s a large city, I typically opt for places that are central to a neighborhood and in smaller cities, I prefer to stay in the center of town.  I also like to stay locations that have easy access to public transportation.

Another thing I look for is whether or not the hostel has lockers and if past visitors have given the impression that they felt that it was a secure environment. You can find shady people in any hostel or hotel, but some places do a better job of looking out for the safety and well being of their guests by doing things like providing lockers for everyone and by letting guests have access to reception 24 hours a day.

Casa Angel, my hostel of choice in Oaxaca. This toilet used to be in one of their bathrooms. When it stopped working, one of the hostel staff members brought it up to the roof and converted it into a flower pot.

» Size and Atmosphere

On my first big solo trip, I figured that large hostels with a party atmosphere were the best for meeting people. While I certainly did meet plenty of people at hostels like that, I’ve found over and over again that I make better connections with better people when I stay at smaller, cozier hostels. There is often a greater variety of people in the crowd at smaller places and people tend to congregate in the same areas so faces become familiar.

I also keep an eye out for hostels that put time and effort into making the hostel inviting by keeping it clean and giving it some kind of personality. Homey and decorative common areas filled with books, ideas on what to do in the area, and friendly faces can make you quickly feel at ease and they draw people out of their rooms to socialize.

» Hostel Events and Free Breakfast

Hostel events and outings are a good way to settle into the environment when you arrive in a new location. I always  prefer to stay in hostels that keep their guests in mind by organizing gatherings, nights out on the town, or trips to local events. I’ve found that if I first get to a new place and I’m not really feeling it, taking on these kind of opportunities always ends up enhancing my experience.

I’ve regularly found that the breakfast table is the best place to meet fellow hostelers. Hostels that offer free breakfast often do it in a small window of time and people traveling on a budget usually take advantage of this, even though it usually takes place earlier than they like to wake up. A number of my great travel friendships have begun this way, with a conversation struck up over coffee and toast.

Note: This post has been sponsored, but all thoughts expressed are my own.

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

If you follow my blog regularly, you may have realized that I have a penchant for the journey aspect of travel — all the things you see and experience while moving from one point to another. The points might be what have attracted me to a place, but I love the discovery — self or cultural — that occurs in the process of getting there.

The internet is saturated with short travel videos that focus on the said points, many of them full of beautiful image after beautiful image, many of them in time lapse form. But when it comes to actual travel, how realistic are these videos? So much of travel is the movement; the in betweens are often the meat of it.

One of the first things that struck me about this video was how much watching it felt like travel feels for me. Sometimes it’s sublime moments in beautiful famous places, but much of it is exploring a new place propelled by my own feet and the unique people you meet along the way and sometimes being crowded in a boat with other tourists who signed up for the same thing and adjusting to another country’s way of moving about and looking at the world through a dirty window and seeing it for what it is, but still finding beauty in it and in the process of moving.

And then the last stretch, that bittersweet, wistful, exalted arrival at home; not always choreographed to such gorgeous melodies, but a gorgeous moment, nevertheless.

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”
- Robert Louis Stevenson

©2012 Girl, Unstoppable. All Rights Reserved.

Water is often on my mind when I travel. I’m not talking about beaches and waterfalls and pretty lakes, but about water in the everyday practical sense. Essentially, water is always more of an issue abroad than it is when I am at home in San Francisco.

There’s the fact that in so many places around the world, you cannot drink water from the tap. In Ghana, if we want to drink tap water, we have to boil it and then put it through a water filter. On other trips, my reusable water bottle that I fill up with tap water when I’m at home has to be replaced by day after day of bottled water from corner stores.

The hostel I stay at in Oaxaca, a city that has issues with water shortages, limits the time hot water is available to two hours in the morning and two hours at night to curb water usage. In Bolivia, so many of the low budget places I stayed at claimed to have 24 hour hot water but often really only had a trickle of lukewarm water that quickly went cold. As I was there in the middle of their winter in some of the highest altitude destinations in the world, this meant that I often skipped the cold showers because it wasn’t worth it.

When I was recently in Namibia, I stayed at a homestay for a couple nights and there was no hot water coming from the taps and the shower head didn’t work. To take warm showers, we boiled hot water and combined it with cold water in bucket and used that to rinse off.

Even in Western Europe, where clean and heated water is widely available, water comes to mind because of the prevalence of dual flush toilets. It demonstrates that there is generally more thought put into the wastefulness of using fresh water to flush waste down the toilet than where I live.

More and more, when I come home, I think about how the way we consume water in the U.S. differs from many other places around the world. It’s a kind of availability and usage that is largely taken for granted. And this is the case even where I live, a state that’s at a constant risk for drought.

As I write this, I am drinking a glass of fresh water from the tap made even tastier and cleaner by putting it through a filter. I have to walk only a few steps to refill my glass. I take a warm shower daily with plenty of water pressure and without having to wait very long for the water to heat up.

But last Friday, for a short period of time, this was not the case. I had come home from work, relaxed a little bit, and wanted to take a quick shower before meeting up with a friend later in the evening. In the bathroom, I turned on the shower and moments later, the water stopped.

I tried the sink faucet and just a little water came out before it stopped as well. I was frustrated. But couldn’t continue to be irritated as I thought about how the problem was likely to be very temporary and the whole issue I was facing could be stamped with the hashtag, #firstworldproblems. If I was in another part of the world, I’d have given up on the idea of taking a shower a lot more quickly.

It wasn’t too long until the water partially came back on. And it kept running through my mind how in some places, even the quick shower I took could be seen as something frivolous, even with just the tiny stream of water that was coming out. How crazy is it that on a global scale, something as fundamental as access to clean water can be considered a luxury?

This is the thing about travel, if you allow yourself to travel to certain places in a certain way, you will often be confronted with your position of privilege, even if you think you are doing things on the cheap. Perhaps especially if you are doing things cheaply. And it can make returning to your first world home more uncomfortable when things that once seemed commonplace now challenge you to acknowledge your prior ignorant bliss.

Maybe that’s reason enough for some people to avoid travel, but personally, I feel that I should take the opportunity to see the reality of the world when it presents itself. I want what I see to make me hold myself more accountable. I want it to push me to make changes in whatever little ways I can. And I know that the different realities of the world are always there, whether or not they’re right in front of me.

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