Stories From a Nomad Abroad

Update: We arrived in Beijing yesterday and decided to hop the overnight Z train to Harbin, about 1200km to the northeast corner of the country. They have a winter festival on that is supposedly out of this world, but more on that later.

First impressions of China? Holy millions of people, Batman. I've always been very vocal about how much of a city kid I'm NOT and the crowds here are of another planet. People everywhere. Literally. I was glad to get out of Beijing and onto the train -- we shared a sleeper with two Chinese businessmen who talked on their mobiles all fucking night -- but I don't know why I was expecting less people in Harbin. It's about half the size of Beijing, which I rationalized in my mind would equate to half the crowd size, but at 10 million or more people in this "small" city, I still don't feel like I can breathe.

I think China is going to take some getting used to.

Righteous. I've done my share of time in both. If I can offer any tips or advice, don't hesitate to ask, mate.

 

I was prepared for a lot of things before I came to China. That's not to say that the hoards of people, pea soup pollution, and aggressive touts aren't overwhelming, but I expected to encounter those things. I expected to have a hard time adjusting to them, and I was right to expect that. I expected good food and squat toilets. Check and mate. I expected to wonder what the fuck aloud. What I didn't expect?
 
China is a fucking weed mecca. On my second day in the country I bought a chunk of hash the size of a Bic lighter from the back kitchen of a small restaurant for about $40, including a plate of BBQ chicken.
 
So begins our third week in the land of the red dragon. We're in a city called Datong, home to the hanging monastery and more Buddhas than you can imagine. Go ahead and try; there are more Buddha statues than that, I promise. We ended up here on a whim, but to be honest, our entire time in China has been whimsical. Back in Harbin -- which by the way was fucking phenomenal, if you ever have the opportunity to visit during the ice festival don't pass up the chance -- I met a bloke from South Africa and we hit it off. His energy got me so amped that I abandoned my original plans of traveling south to throw a stone across the river at North Korea (a silly endeavor, I'll admit) and instead tailed him back toward Beijing where we recruited three other intrepid adventurers and may or may not have camped on the Great Wall.
 
What was that like? Colder than a snowman's teat. We were entirely unprepared, but the rice wine kept us warm as we set up headquarters in one of the many watch posts and played like children, pretending to stave off a mongol hoard. The sunrise the next morning will be a memory I cherish for the rest of my life. The sky opening up, the land rolling away in every direction, the wall rolling with it as far as you can see. The silence, in a country devoid of silence, was something else. We hiked forever and it was rad.
 
Our plan had been to hug the coast from Beijing to Hong Kong and right to Vietnam, but we elected to continue following our South African friend. Truth be told, I had to stretch to dig Beijing. The people. The pollution. I wasn't exactly stoked to keep up that trend as we traversed the uber-populated coast. Inland now, there's still crowds, there's still pollution. But there are a lot of gems that make putting up with it all worthwhile. China is something else, a real meld between the past and the future. Out of the cities, where as lowais we're constantly stared at and taken interest in by the locals, you get these glimpses of real treasure. Turn a corner and there's an intricate archway. Lantern lit alleyways. A family beckoning us in for a steaming bowl of noodles and board games.
 
Stories for other times.
 
Happy trails, mates.

 

 
Listen, mate, you're going to finally work up the courage to take that leap and follow your dreams of traveling and you know what you're going to regret? Not doing it sooner. It is never, ever, in a million years going to be the perfect time to strap on a pack and step out into the world, I promise you that. There are always bills to pay, parties to go to, one more thing to check off the to-do list. So you might as well just go ahead and make the leap.
 
Contrary to popular belief, travel isn't expensive. It can be, but it doesn't have to be. It's also not a lonely road. When I've traveled solo, I've had days where I just need a fucking break away from people. You meet so many folks on the road, it's ridiculous. Sit in the hostel common room for ten minutes with an open expression and ready smile, and someone will approach you for a chat. Easy as that -- you don't even have to make the first move. It's a constant stream of new friends, and sometimes it sucks because with every hello comes a goodbye. Those can be tough.
 
You don't get the same experience when you travel with someone else. Being alone makes you approachable and flexible, and people will always gravitate toward you.
 
When you travel solo, you learn more about yourself and your capabilities than you ever thought possible. You get to do exactly what you want, when you want, how you want. If you want to wake up and spend the entire day in a hammock on the beach, you can. If the queue for the attraction you wanted to see is too long for your liking, you can grab a couple beers and do some people-watching instead. Decide you don't like a place? You can leave on the spot. The freedom is ultimate.
 
I'm not trying to sway you (okay, maybe a little bit), but if you wait for someone to travel with, you might be waiting forever. And your time is now, my friend.
 
 

 
Don't envy me, follow your own dreams mate. You're a good man, a savvy man, and capable of anything. I don't know much, but that I know for sure.

 

Cheers, brother. I'd be happy to field any questions; few things get me off as well as travel talk, and if I can inspire someone to follow their own travel dreams, I'll sleep well tonight.

Deep breath, TL;DR. Apologies for any typos, writing on a phone is hard.

For this trip, my wife and I saved together. We set a lofty goal of AUD$40,000. That sounds like a lot, I know, but keep in mind that this sum was meant to support two people traveling without working for more than a year. We saved for two years to accumulate what began as a wedding and house fund and morphed into a kitty devoted solely for travel. With the sale of the vast majority of our possessions (including two cars and some high-ticket items), we only had about $30K to raise. Breaking it down further, I had two years to save $15K -- roughly $600 per month. Lofty, but doable.

We lived like misers for almost a year in order to earn enough, and came up short with a total of just over AUD$35,000. Blame my insatiable wanderlust and the multiple surf holidays I took in 2014. Shame on me, I don't regret it for a second.

What does that leave us? Roughly $50 per day for exactly one year of uninterrupted travel. This is what you should aim to have as a travel budget. How much you need depends entirely on where you want to go, but between more and less expensive places, it should average out to that magic number of $50. We blasted almost double that per day in Japan (holy fuck), but now in more rural, inland China we're getting by and living well on about $30 per day each. For multiple days last week I spent half that because I wasn't doing much by way of activities or excursions. Cost examples? Our hostel dorms today are $7/night (we splurged on a private room for $11, which means I'm gettin' laid), $10 feeds me most days, and we're headed to see the terracotta warriors tomorrow or the next day for a big day out -- probably $30 total, admission and transport.

In the most expensive places like Japan, Australia, much of Western Europe, and North America, you probably won't want to live on $50/day. With couchsurfing or camping, hitchhiking, minimal activities, and cooking all your own meals, you might come in close... But that's tight. I crossed 2500 miles of Australia for free (not including my food), but it was far from pretty. It was also the greatest experience of my life.

I'm going to go out on a limb and hazard a guess that you're American. Correct me if I'm wrong. The bad news is that you won't be able to work in many places while you travel because your country doesn't like to play nice when it comes to diplomacy. You can take part in hospitality or volunteer exchanges (like WWOOFing) that will cover your room and board, or commit to one place for a longer while to teach English, but casual employment isn't likely to happen.

The good news is that there are a small handful of yank friendly countries that offer special work-and-travel visas for people under 30 years old. Australia, New Zealand, Ireland, and Korea. If I'm wrong on this, or someone else knows more, please correct me.

I did a working holiday in Australia back in 2011. It allows you to work and travel freely in the country for up to one year, with some stipulations, one being that you must have AUD$5000 in savings to support yourself before you start working. They never checked that I actually had this money, nor have I ever heard of anyone who's been turned away because of lack of funds. I once met a guy who got in with $200 to his name.

I worked four jobs during my first year in Oz. A week helping a house painter on whose boat I was staying, on an Outback cattle station for 2 months, picking mangoes for 30 days, and for a landscaping company that eventually sponsored me for permanent residency. Jobs in Australia (and New Zealand from what I hear) are not hard to come by if you don't care what you're doing or where you're doing it. Harvest jobs particularly abound year round all across the country, and can often be found via hostels or online (gumtree.com.au).

I don't want to say it's impossible, but it's highly unlikely that you'll land a job prior to being in the country. You're a temporary hand by very nature of being a backpacker, and nobody is going to take a chance on you without being face-to-face. For teaching, volunteers, or programs like WWOOFing, it's easier (but not always necessary) to solidify your gig before you leave home.

I've traveled with a set budget after a long time saving (as is the case now). I've crossed the UK with £100 in my pocket. Landed in Spain without enough money for the flight home nor even a bed for the night. Money is a deciding factor in a lot of things, but you don't necessarily need much to travel. It's about your comfort zone, your dreams, and just what you'll do to realize those dreams. It's not for everyone, but for me, I'll do whatever it takes.

Happy trails, mate. Feel free to ask anything more.

 

This times infinity. It's so fucking true, all of it. It's impossible not to think about the what ifs of navigating your life in a foreign place where maybe you don't speak the language, where maybe they don't even use the same alphabet as you do, but I always found solace in the fact that the world has already been discovered. No matter where you go, you're not swimming in uncharted waters and there is an entire industry set up to help you figure out what to do and how to do it. I hardly bother with planning anymore, because it's usually easier, always less stressful, and often more enjoyable to just wing it when you land.

The hardest part really is taking that first step. The rest really does fall into place. And when in doubt, always remember that the worst experiences (having a panic attack deep in the Amazon jungle, getting mugged in Barcelona, being left stranded in the Outback) make the best stories.

Where is your Central American journey taking you? I've never been, but I've been über obsessed with thoughts of the region lately.

 

I love China.

Wait, did I just say that out loud? No, I didn't, I typed it out on this public forum for the world to see, but I could just have easily let the words slip off my tongue. In a country I do often find frustration with, exhaustion of, and aversion to... here I am increasingly intrigued by, enthralled with, and drawn into the intricacies and gems of a country at odds with me, the world, and itself.

The crowds are suffocating, but I had the time of my life with a beat-up old hostel guitar around my neck, bounding up the near-claustrophobic Jiqing Street in Wuhan and performing with an assortment of local buskers keen on engaging this obnoxious laowai.

The pollution leaves me despondent, but when I close my eyes I see the endless sky and empty, rolling hills at dawn over The Wall. The mist over the alleys of Pingyao, walking down a street easily plucked straight from an ancient Kung Fun scene in Hollywood. Temples clinging to mountainsides, seemingly held by pure faith alone. The thick air adds to the experience more memorably than it chokes my lungs.

The touts are aggressive; every stroll a test of my will to ignore, every transaction an exhausting dance. It's so easy to close yourself off from everyone you meet, to start every interaction with a wonder of "how much do they want from me?" But when I think of the people who've crossed my path, I think first of the boys in Dating who I played football with for days in a dusty field. I think of the men around a huge table in the Wuhan bar, laughing with tears rolling down their faces, slapping the table and my back -- likely joking at my expense, but man, I had fun. The old woman in Xi'an who took me by the hand into her home, crowded with generations of family, feeding us fit to burst and playing games late into the evening.

A few of my more memorable experiences this past month.

Today, Yichang. Base for the Three Gorges Dam, largest in the world. I don't have much regard for this monstrous example of Chinese engineering and environmental degradation, but as the saying goes, when in Rome. Next direction, west toward Chengdu -- pandas! I want to get there via boat up the Yangtze River. Why? Because I'm fucking English. I see a river and I have an ancestral necessity to conquer it.