Travel – Page 6 – Mystery, fantasy and romance at the dangerous ends of the earth

Packing Light – And Drowning in Electronics

By Karen Abrahamson | March 14, 2011

So I’m on the final countdown. Eleven days from now I’ll be on a plane heading towards Lima, Peru, on my virgin trip to South America. In between trying to get books finished and manage my business, I’ve been trying to pack and get my equipment in order. I’ve cleaned and packed my camera equipment. I’ve bought a lightweight computer. I’ve made plans to blog and I have my smart phone so I can keep in touch. I even have my kindle so I don’t have to carry a plethora of books.

There’s only one problem. I feel sick about it.

Photographing Angkor (2009) Note the camera backpack and tripod. — Photographing Angkor (2009) Photo (c) Selma Swaab. Note the camera backpack and tripod.

All this stuff weighs a ton. There are electrical cords and plug adapters and more plugs and batteries until I wonder whether I’m going trekking or to the office. I keep telling myself all this stuff will help my travel, but I guess I’ll reserve judgment until I hike my pack onto my back. Let me tell you about the changes the electronic age has made.

1. I don’t have to carry film. Instead I have a little external hard drive and numerous memory cards. This might not seem like such a big deal, but fifty to seventy-five rolls of high quality slide film are far heavier than you think, especially when you have to carry them on your back. Not only do they weigh a lot, they also take up a huge amount of space and time. I recall going through a SeaTac Security counter where they wanted to open and check each roll of film after I refused to let them put it through the x-ray. I had the time, so I stood there and let them do it, until they finally gave up. Seventy-five rolls is that much. Shooting digital on my last trip I shot over 3000 frames—the equivalent of about 86 rolls.

It’s interesting as I pack now. I’m using the large pack I took to India for three months and although this time I’m packing the same amount of clothes AND a sleeping bag, the pack is still almost empty compared to the old trip because of the lack of film. Which means a lighter pack and more room for the souvenirs and gifts I inevitably bring home.

2. Think books. There’s a guidebook to Peru that I’ll still carry, though I have it on Kindle also. (I always have a backpacker’s guide like Rough Guide or Lonely Planet). Right there, you have a heavy tome. Then any books you might want to read over a month or so away and you have a few more pounds. So this time I have my kindle loaded up with far more books than I know I’ll get a chance to read, but better to have too many than not enough. One of my most horrendous memories is of being caught in Burma with only the Thornbirds to read. Twice. I still shudder.

3. The telephone. Before cell phones took over the world I’ve had to waste a day wandering around to find a pay phone, stand in line and then make connections from whatever backwater I happen to be in. Having the smart phone will help out with e-mail and keeping in touch, so though it’s an additional weight I think it’s a weight that will save me in time. On the other hand it’s going to keep me more connected and that isn’t always a good thing when I’m trying to focus on the place I’m in.

4. The computer. Let me just say I always journal when I travel. It’s the best way I know of to record the events, the feel and emotion of a place. Often I’ll write myself to sleep and wake up the next morning and write more before I go off on the day’s new adventures. Having the computer presumably means I can do this electronically, but I’m not sure if I will, even if I need it to blog. I have always carried coiled notebooks. A notebook can’t break down and can be salvaged if it falls in a river. A notebook is less attractive to steal and a pen or pencil still feels more real in my hand when I travel. However I have to say that after filling four or five notebooks on my India trip, there may be room for computers though I feel both more vulnerable and excited to try this out.

Early Morning journalling on the balcony, Phnom Penh (2009) Photo (c) Selma Swaab.

So for this trip to a new continent, I’m trying a new form of travel: One that’s a little lighter and that comes with a whole lot more (electrical) connections.

If I don’t get hit over the head by someone trying to steal it.

Or fall in a river.

Money: Or horses are like tomatoes (and cats are, too)

By Karen Abrahamson | February 28, 2011

This blog is about money. It may be very short. Or long.

You see, money and I have a long and troubled relationship. Yes, I’m doing okay at the moment, but it hasn’t always been so good. I can recall winters of eating mostly potato soup, or venison the neighbors donated to me and my spouse. I still remember the night our ‘house’ almost burned down when the wood heater (we couldn’t afford a furnace) overheated. The house? A converted garage cum chicken coop (not kidding). So I’ve seen some good times and some bad and right now things are less bad than others so I’m doing the not-too-smart thing and running off travelling. I guess my mom didn’t teach me so good.

So what does this have to do with travel and writing? Because I’m planning out the money for my Peru trip a number of money rules have started reverberating in my mind. I thought I’d share some that relate to travel and writing.

Tibetan monks after ceremony, Labrang, China (1998) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

My writing mentors, Dean Wesley Smith and Kristine Kathryn Rusch have some wonderful blogs about writers and money. One of their major rules that all writers should remember is that ALL MONEY FLOWS TO THE WRITER. What this means is that writers should not be paying faux publishing companies or shady agents to edit and revise the writer’s manuscript. True enough. Those scam artists who offer to publish your book if you only send them cash, are preying on new writers who don’t know that rule. But in this day of digital self-publishing a variation on the rule is, Money flows to the writer unless you are paying someone to edit your manuscript for self-publishing to ensure that you are publishing the highest quality possible. It might also mean that the writer who doesn’t want to learn how to make book covers, spends some money to have a creditable cover made for the book. Any writer prepared to do this needs to consider how long it is going to take to recoup the dollars spent, but also consider whether their time is better spent doing what they do best – namely writing.

All well and good, but unfortunately the rule with travel is that ALL MONEY FLOWS FROM THE TRAVELER. First there was the cost of the jacket I wrote about. Then there are new hiking boots (mine just died), and then there are the things like camera memory cards etc. Those are all the sundry costs before you go.

And then there is the cost of travel. As a relatively seasoned traveler, I like to plan for costs before I leave, because I don’t like depending on plastic when I’m overseas. First of all there’s the fact plastic runs up debt. Then there’s the fact that overseas use of credit and bank cards is more prone to problems. Picture this: In Delhi I went to my bank (an international that has branches almost everywhere) and plugged my bank card into their bank machine. Said machine eats card. On a Sunday. In the afternoon. Monday I call said bank and am told that said card had been reported stolen. I ended up spending almost 24 hours phoning my branch back home to get things sorted out.

Nope, cards are great backups, and cash may be good to get the best rate in exchange, but give me a good old traveler’s check any day. American Express or Thomas Cook are my best friends when I travel and are less tempting to thieves, as well.

But budgeting for travel can be a problem. I always plan for my expected costs and then double the amount , but even that has left me high and dry a couple of times. For instance in Cambodia, two years ago we budgeted about $2,000.00 for a bit over a month. I suppose that would have been fine, except inflation had hit Cambodia and everyone wanted everything paid in American dollars. Cash. I was never so happy to get back to Thailand where the costs seemed more manageable and we could use plastic because the time in Cambodia had eaten up the money faster than I’d figured. So rule three and four: ALWAYS EXPECT TO BE OVER BUDGET and ALWAYS HAVE A CONTINGENCY.

In the same vein, expect there to be times when travelling cheap is just too painful. I recall sitting in a grotty hotel room in a town in central China after a nightmare journey down the Yangtze River. My traveling companion and I were both close to tears and the thing that held us together was the fact that the next morning we knew we had the cash to lug our backpacks down the street to the nicest hotel in town (even with a swimming pool). When you travel YOU MUST BUDGET ENOUGH MONEY TO ALLOW YOURSELF TO RECOVER. Travel is hard. Backpacker travelling is even harder and if you don’t build in a comfort buffer you will find yourself hating your trip and travel. That’s not what it’s all about.

My last rule comes to me from a previous spouse who might have never travelled but he was wise in common sense and the way of horses. He was an old cowboy and superb horseman and he told me that horses are like tomatoes: they are just as perishable and just as easily ruined. Hard to believe, I know, but a 1,500 lb equine is so darned prone to injury and illness that they can go from magnificent dressage horse to fox feed in next to no time. Illustration: A very good hunter jumper mare cast herself upside down in a ditch on my property. We got her out, but the poor thing was exhausted. Did she just stay down until she regained strength? Oh no. She fought to get to her feet – so hard she broke her leg. So I learned the hard way to insure my horses and now, believe it or not, I have medical insurance for my cats, too. It has paid off, because Big Ben has already had far too many misadventures like shattering a toe in his carry cage.

Humans are no different. So the last thing a traveler wants to do is be caught somewhere having to shell out big bucks to cover medical costs. My parents had a lovely trip to Palm Springs end on an unfortunate note when my mom had heart troubles and ended up hospitalized. On my trip along the Silk Road an acquaintance on the bus behind ours had his arm shattered when his bus went off the road. Thus my last rule of travel is ALWAYS TRAVEL WITH MEDICAL INSURANCE. Let me leave you with my litany of past injuries and illnesses as illustration:

• Tropical ulcers in East Africa that required medical attention and frequent debriding (something you do not want to go through) and antibiotic shots for months.

• Food poisoning in West Africa that required my hotel staff to bundle me up and get me on a plane out.

• Food poisoning in Burma that (thankfully) required nothing (except a very rapid-fire rejection of the food).

• Two sprained ankles in China that made the next month and a half a nightmare ride.

• Walking pneumonia in India.

I hate to think what it would have cost if I something REALLY bad had occurred.

I guess I’d better be careful hiking the Peruvian mountains.

Zen and the Art of Travel

By Karen Abrahamson | February 14, 2011

This topic came to mind as I was running around through the frantic holiday seasons. Too many people, packed too close together and all of them trying to get too much done too fast under too much pressure. No wonder there were so many unhappy faces. I’ve seen the same look of tension on my face when I’m in the midst of a novel and things don’t feel like they’re working well. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve called writing colleagues and gained their help to talk me through days of angst and despondency.

The same sort of tension can be experienced when you travel.

Ranakpur - old temple worker and the Zen of repetitive work (2000) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

You’re in a strange place, with a strange language so you can’t express yourself and as a writer that’s something you need to do. You don’t understand the logic or the cultural norms of the place and the people and that alone is frustrating. The fact you don’t necessarily know where you are, or how to get to the place you want to go, all add to the tension and vulnerability a traveler feels. This not knowing how to get from point A to point B (or even what point B should be) are both anxieties a writer feels, too.

So how do you react?

I know that both at home and abroad, when I’ve felt vulnerable and tense I’ve barked at people—and usually felt bad about it afterwards. The trouble is, we North Americans feel quite comfortable showing our displeasure at something. Often it’s a matter of blaming someone else for how we are feeling, but that’s not the way it is in most parts of the world. In many parts of the world just showing such negative emotion is considered rude—or worse.

My lesson in this came travelling in Burma. There I was, all 6 foot 1+ of me about to travel by local bus from Yangon to fabled Mandalay. I was careful. I did the right things. I made sure I was on an air-conditioned vehicle, had a seat by the window, and that I wasn’t at the rear of the bus. Well the best laid plans oft go awry, they say, and so it was for me. The first clue was when I arrived at the bus. Sure I had a window seat and I wasn’t at the rear. Nope. I was seated over the left front wheel well which meant that all the foot room in the seat was gone.

Okay, tension there.

Then it turned out my seat partner was a stout little man who was wide enough (or I was – it’s all a matter of perspective) that it was impossible for us both to lean back in our seat at the same time.

Okay, frosted now.

So we leave Yangon with me fuming and travel north into the dry lands south of Pagan and the air conditioning broke down. (Did I mention that NOTHING works in Burma?) And then the bus overheated so we had to keep stopping to cool the engine. And on. And on. And on. For hours.

I was furious. I was fuming.

Until I noticed something.

That stout little man never once leaned back and he never once stopped smiling.

He shared his foot space with me and every time we came to a stop, he made sure I got off the bus, got food and found my way around. The entire group of passengers took me under their wing, laughing when I doused my head under a water tap, being gracious when I shared my snacks (Good old M and Ms travel exceedingly well) and making sure I got back on the bus in time. What I learned from those people was patience. When my legs cramped up from their position or the heat became unbearable, I just had to look at my Buddha-shaped travel companion to remind myself that the Buddhist philosophy is that all things pass away, and so, too, would this bus ride.

And really, in the whole scheme of things, how bad was a twelve hour bus ride anyway? I made friends, I saw the country and I learned a vital skill that helps me to this day in my writing and travel.

Patience.

For every bad day, for every time that the words have to be pulled like hot coals from my brain or my wrists burn with pain, or I’m lost in another country, this too will pass. And when it’s over I’ll have learned so much along the way.

For the Writer – Travel Light

By Karen Abrahamson | January 31, 2011

I remember the time in China that I had sprained both my ankles: one sprained bracing myself on a horrific twelve hour train ride to Xi’an on the May 5th weekend, (For those of you who don’t know, the May 5th weekend is like July first and the entire Chinese population gets on trains, buses, planes and, for all I know, mules—and moves. ) and the second one sprained carrying a heavy pack on Xi’an’s uneven sidewalks. And then there was the time I was suffering from the early stages of pneumonia (unbeknownst to me) and had to carry a pack and camera equipment uphill from the train station to the Northern India, hill station town of Shimla. Both of these little episodes bring home one of the key lessons I have for travel.

Village woman- Sarahan, Spiti, India (2000) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

Travel light. Which means you don’t take five suitcases on a cruise. Heck, you don’t take five suitcases anywhere! But travel light speaks to more than just baggage.

Travelling light means:

1. Travel alone or with only another person. Traveling in groups brings your culture with you and means you will be less likely to focus outside and away from your home culture. Some of the worst moments I’ve had while travelling have been sitting in the middle of the African veldt and having to listen to hard rock music courtesy of a group of campers who were so into their own world they couldn’t take the time to partake in the world they were in. At the same time, in most locations the fact that you are part of a group is likely to discourage local people from talking to you.

Traveling alone forces you to become a part of your surroundings to survive. You are forced to learn the language – or to stumble along without it. You are forced to seek local people for human companionship. If you settle in for a few days, this allows you and the people around you get used to each other. You know what I mean – it’s when you can actually start to make eye contact and people smile in recognition and it gives you the opportunity to really observe people and your surroundings.

2. Travel light also means keeping luggage to a minimum. Being keen on photography makes this a bit of a problem for me, because along with my personal effects, I also carry a fairly extensive camera bag. Praise for the digital age when I just have to carry memory cards and a digital storage device instead of fifty to a hundred rolls of film.

But traveling only with what you can comfortably carry yourself means that you can travel into unusual settings and more remote locations. It also means that you are not dependent upon traveling to resorts. So what do I travel with? Well my list is pretty basic:

• 3-4 pair of underwear

• 2-4 pairs of socks (depending on climate traveled to)

• 2 pair quick-drying trousers (one you wear, the other you pack)

• 2 t-shirts (one you wear, the other you pack)

• 1 long-sleeved shirt (and possibly 1 ‘nice’ shirt in case you want to splash out for an evening)

• 1 sweater or fleece

• 1 light wind and rain proof jacket

• First Aid kit

• Sewing kit

• Any medications/vitamins/toiletries etc. you think you might need (e.g. urinary tract infection mediation, dysentery medication, and don’t forget the moleskin for those pesky blisters on the feet.)

• Good quality walking sandals (Merrell, Teva) and/or hiking boots depending on the climate traveled to.

• Flashlight

• Pocket knife

• Book or two to read (or an e-reader)

• Note book or two with enough capacity to cover all the journaling you do during the trip – don’t underestimate – I’ve filled ten pages a day on a lot of trips. (or an e-notebook, but remember you often don’t have electricity) This is critical for writing about a place when I come back.

• Writing implements.

And of course camera equipment – always with more batteries and memory cards or film (if you still use it) than you think you’ll need.

Tibetan woman at festival, Lamusa, China (1998) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

This is my packing list, and it may seem small to some of you. Actually it’s fairly extensive when I think of an artist friend of mine who took only a shoulder bag of personal supplies and a pocket sized sketching and water color paint kit. That lasted her three months. Believe me, it isn’t fun to lug around a lot of extra junk when you are hiking up a mountain. Take too much and you end up discarding the extras as you go.

Because carrying extra weight up hill both ways is never fun. Not with sprained ankles and not with pneumonia. Besides, taking too much with you means you have no room to bring the memories back home.

Hello world!

By karenabrahamson | December 11, 2010

Fromages Tree at Ta Phrom, Angkor, Cambodia (2008) Photo (c) Karen Abrahamson

Welcome to the website.

Maps and dreams-those mysterious creations propel us on unexpected journeys-some good and some nightmarish. The most memorable adventures occur where the maps end and the dreams take over.

While this website focuses on writing, it also includes photos and random journal entries of my travels-regardless of where the tales or the travels have taken me.

You might say this site is dedicated to the gentle art of falling off the map.