Bren on The Road

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  • Have You Been To Tanzania?

    Have You Been To Tanzania?

    I have a question.

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    Oh, it’s an incredible place. By the sea, the east African coast. Let me tell you about it, my friend.

    It’s a place by the equator, where the sun will hit you like an open flame. You will effortlessly tan to a golden bronze, or a lobster red, whichever one your body warms to. But you can leave your woollen socks at home. You will not need them here.

    It’s a place where men sit at their roadside carts piled with poles of sugar cane, shaving them down with a small knife and chopping them into small plastic bags. Enjoy a bag of nature’s candy for less than a dollar, cut fresh right before your eyes.

    It’s a place where the streets come to life – young men walk briskly with trays of peanuts and candy, jingling coins in their hand. You can hear the jingle from the window of your hotel, eight storeys up. The cars beep their horns relentlessly, stuck in the jam sana, and piki pikis weave through the traffic like in a video game.

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where the french fries are not called french fries at all. They’re called chipsi, and they’re not bought bagged from the supermarket. Oh no, sir. They’re peeled and cut every morning from the freshest potatoes, ready to be deep fried batch by batch in a tiny wok. They’re golden, crispy. They’re the most delicious fries in the world.

    It’s a place where the avocados are the size of pineapples. Cut them open and they are rich, creamy and soft, like no avocado you’ve ever seen before. And you don’t buy them for $5 in a gourmet store. No sir, many a kind lady will pull her basket of avocados off the top of her head and sell you one by the side of the street. They eat parachichi by the dozen here, and why wouldn’t you? They only cost around 25 cents.

    It’s a place where you can smell the goat being barbecued a hundred metres away, charring away on a makeshift grill over hot coals. The meat is smokey, gamey, exploding with flavour. Order a portion if you dare – that steak will never taste the same again.

     

    What’s for lunch? #ugali #nyamachoma, bro

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where you might creep 100 metres in an hour on the gridlocked streets of Dar Es Salaam. It’ll be hot, so you’ll need some water. It’ll be long, so you’ll need a few snacks. But young boys will march through the traffic jams, coming right to your car window to sell you whatever it is you need. Once you’ve got your food and drinks, you could also buy some phone credit, a football, maybe a few pots and pans too. You can buy anything from your car window around here.

    It’s a place where fresh oranges are sold on every corner – young men run their sharp knives along the skin, peeling them meticulously and stacking them in small baskets on the back of their bikes. You can eat as many chungwa as you like, they only cost 10 cents or so.

    It’s a place where the kids run wild with muddy knees and shining smiles. Without Xboxes and Nintendos, they play rede under the banana trees, laughing infectiously with every throw. They run not in the video games, but out in the dirt, in the sunshine where kids were always meant to be.

     

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where the women dress wrapped in the brightest fabrics, tailored perfectly to their curves, they laugh with zest and vigor, and smile with unapologetic beauty. They have some of the whitest and brightest smiles in the world.

    It’s a place where minivans are used as dalla dallas – tiny buses designed to fit 12 but often overflowing with more than 30. Arms and heads flailing out the windows, yet they still stop to collect more. If you’re lucky enough to sit at the front with some leg space, ladies will step on and drop their belongings in your lap, before squeezing into the back to find a space to stand. Depending on the day you might get a handbag, a basket of tomatoes, or even a cute little baby in your lap. Don’t worry, they trust you.

    It’s a place where the floury white sand beaches can rival the best in the world. You’ll find them everywhere – Dar Es Salaam, Pangani, Zanzibar. The ocean is warm and clear, and home to electric festivals and delicious seafood. It’s a beach paradise that most will never see, and the locals welcome you to their shores with smiles.

     

    Sunrise beach, Kigamboni Dar es Salaam, Wednesday afternoon. No filter bro.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where their omelettes are not made with cheese or vegetables, but with french fries. Chipsi mayai they call it, and you can eat it any time of day. Sprinkle some salt, squirt a bit of ketchup. It’s a quick and dirty treat that you’ll surely try more than once.

    It’s a place where the boda boda drivers hang on the corner, lying on their bikes, chatting the day away as they wait for passengers. Need to get somewhere fast? Pay him a dollar or two and jump on the back. They’ll get you from A to B in no time.

    It’s a place where the boys ride dragging baskets of coconuts on their bicycles. Ask him for one and watch him pull out a knife and hack it open in seconds. You want maji, or nyama? Just ask for both and slurp the whole thing down. African coconuts are something else.

     

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where you can get lost in the winding alleys of Stone Town without a care in the world. It’s not dangerous here, nor intimidating. Children run up and down these alleys at all hours of the night. It’ll remind you of Istanbul, or Granada, this place. A tiny town of Arabian flavour on an island, with all the character you could want.

    It’s a place where ladies will sit shaded under a roadside tree, charring corn on the cob over hot coals. Grab one – they’re only a few cents, and fun to eat. It’s like popcorn, Africa style. You’ll be back for more.

    It’s a place where you don’t eat burgers or pizza after a hard night out. Oh no, after one too many Serengeti beers you indulge in a few skewers of mishkaki, perhaps goat or beef, perhaps a side of chipsi and maybe even a grilled quarter chicken. Pub food is a little different around here.

    So tell me, have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where the mornings are started with donuts and tea. The mandazi are cooked fresh each morning – hot and steamy. Lather them with peanut butter and wash them down with a cup of hot chai. Your days will start deliciously here.

    It’s a place where the music is kicking, full of love and guaranteed to take you over. When you’re in a club and an Ali Kiba song comes on, you’ll know what I mean. Once you’ve rocked out to a bit of bongo flava, there’s no going back. I promise you’ll still be rocking your Tanzania jams many years from now.

    It’s a place where the ladies at the market sit behind their stacks of vegetables, piled up high in the afternoon sun. You can hear the laughter from the other end of the street. When they’re not stuffing veges into bags, they’re yammering away to the lady next to them. The market here is gossip city.

     

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where Swahili is the tongue of the streets, and once you throw around a little mambo and hujambo, you’ll be getting smiles from every direction. Don’t be scared. Give a vipi here and there. Sign off with an asante sana. It’s a beautiful language, and you’ll surely miss it when you go.

    It’s a place where the pizza might be a little different to what you’re used to. The Zanzibar pizza, doughy and deep fried, stuffed with meat and onions and veges and cheese. Or perhaps have one for dessert, filled with gooey Nutella and banana. It’s definitely not good for the waistline, but I promise your taste buds won’t complain.

    It’s a place where the kids are full of laughter and smiles. Life is not shiny here but the sparkles in their eyes will tell you different. Kids are full of love and spirit, they greet their elders with a shikamoo, they’re taught to respect their families and communities, they walk to school with a skip in their step. It’s truly beautiful to see.

     

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    It’s a place where people wear their tribal colours with pride. Sip some blood with the masais, drink some banana beer with the chagas. Family, tradition, respect. It’s something to admire here.

    It’s a place where football stickers are plastered on every bajaj and taxi. Who’s your favourite team? Liverpool? Chelsea? The boys here go nuts for it. Grab yourself a cold Serengeti and watch the game. If you’re a football fan you’ll make friends in seconds.

    It’s a place where the food is hearty and simple, no flashy red wine jus or berry compote. Enjoy a banana and beef stew, a grilled fish, a bowl of pilau, some creamy avocado. A little kachumbari on the side. Mush some fresh ugali in your hands and chow it down. Top it off with a fresh mango or coconut. There’s no way you won’t fall in love with it all.

     

    Cooking #beef #stew, #african style.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Have you been to Tanzania?

    I won’t lie, it’s a place that may bring a few tears. It’s a place that can break your heart. You can see things here you don’t want to see. But it’s a place where you’ll learn a few lessons, too. Tanzanians are strong, optimistic, resilient. You may very well be humbled here, but you’ll love them for it.

    It’s a place you won’t forget quickly. You’ll miss hearing the karibu in the streets, the smell of freshly grilled goat at lunchtime, the shouts of mzungu! followed by a smile and a wave, the kids’ laughing faces, the warm African sun, the tire sandals, the one dollar bottles of konyagi, the oddly delicious sour milk, the mosquito nets, the boda boda rides, the power cuts, the warm beer, the muddy shoes, the tip of Mount Kili peeking out over the clouds, the funky bracelets, the posters of Ludacris outside every hairdresser, the chipsi stacked in the window of every food cart, the shoes being sold on every street corner. There’s something about the place. You’ll miss the love. You’ll miss the chaos. Everyone falls in love with Tanzania.

    So tell me.

    Tanzania.

    Have you been there?

    Beautiful piece about all the small things that make Tanzania beautiful.

    Heading to Tanzania? My Dar city guide might come in helpful!

  • Ten Easy Tips For Making Flying Less Crappy

    Ten Easy Tips For Making Flying Less Crappy

    Yo, I love flying!

    Said no person ever.

    Flying sucks. You know it and I know it. Two hours trudging through the airport, waiting in lines, having security nosy through all your bags and then sitting in a cabin with stale air for 12 hours – there’s no fun in there.

    Unfortunately, I don’t really have any tips for making it fun, after ten years on the road, I have learned a few tricks to make a long flight more comfortable.

    If you’re going to be stuck in the air anytime soon, give these ideas a crack and see if they make a difference:

    1. Mark your bags as fragile

    On most airlines marking your bags as fragile is free.

    You can simply tell them you have a few fragile gifts or electronics and they should tag it for you. This means that your bags will get handled better by airline staff and not get thrown around like a box of old shoes.

    It also means your bags will usually come out first at the other end, meaning once you get off your long flight, you shouldn’t be left waiting around for bags any longer than you need to (warning: I’ve also had them come out last, so it can be a gamble!)

    2. Request a special meal

    If given the option I always request a special meal, usually the gluten free one, but sometimes the low sugar or vegetarian one too, just for something different.

    I do this for a couple of reasons. One, it comes out sooner meaning I get to eat before everyone else, and two, it’s usually better quality, probably because greater care is needed to make it and it’s produced in smaller batches.

    I actually figured this one out when I was eating fluten free for health reasons. Most good airlines now offer special meals – halal, vegetarian, low calorie etc.

    3. Ask for more food

    Best way to make a long flight more comfortable? EAT!

    Plus, I don’t know about you but I’m always still hungry after those airline meals – a kid’s sized plate of food with salad and bread roll? That’s hardly enough to fill a grown man’s stomach.

    What most people don’t realise is you can just ask for another meal once you’re done.

    Simply buzz the flight attendant and ask nicely if they have any more meals left (they always do, usually because some passengers don’t eat and flight staff rarely eat their share).

    I do this all the time and I’ve never been denied a second meal. Sometimes I’ll even get the special meal, finish it, and then when the standard meals come around ask nicely for one of those as well. You usually have to wait until the rest of the plane has been served, but some hostesses are cool and will give you one straight away!

    4. Check in online

    I still forget to do this as I’m not good at thinking that far ahead, but checking in online will save you a lot of time and hassle.

    Rules vary between airlines but it’s a good idea to do it around 24 hours before your flight. Some good airlines will even email you a reminder which is nice.

    Once you get to the airport you can go straight to the online check-in counter (which is almost always empty) and drop off your bags, while everyone else waits in the huge queue at the normal check-in line. I don’t think I’ve ever seen more than 4 or 5 people waiting for the online-check in counter.

    Sitting in a cafe enjoying a book and a cup of tea is always more relaxing before a long flight than standing in queues for hours, I’m sure you’ll agree!

    5. Request a better seat

    When you check-in, the check-in staff usually just assign you whatever seat they want, and sometimes will give you a crappy seat down the back so they can save the good ones for frequent flyers and such.

    All you need to do is ask for a better seat. I usually ask for an aisle seat as close to the front of the plane as possible.

    It’s very easy for them to do and doesn’t cost anything, and they’ll usually print you a new boarding pass within 20 seconds, complete with new seat number. Remember, you’re going to be sitting in that seat a long time, sometimes more than 12 hours! Get a good one.

    6. Load your phone/tablet with entertainment

    I don’t know how we ever survived flying without smartphones, because I’m on mine almost the whole time.

    Flights are long and boring, and even worse if there’s a shitty movie selection or you don’t have a TV screen at all. Even then, the sound and picture on that TV is sometimes so shitty I don’t bother watching anyway. Instead, my phone is loaded with stuff to keep me entertained – I have my Kindle app loaded with books, a bunch of music, and also a few episodes of my favourite podcasts. I particularly enjoy Pat Flynn’s podcast and The Tim Ferriss Show.

    I also have a pen and pad for taking notes while I’m listening. I find it’s a good low stress way to do something productive on the flight.

    People are always looking for gadgets to make flying more comfortable, but your phone can do everything!

    7. Know the rules when flying budget airlines

    Make sure you read all the rules and conditions when flying a budget airlines, especially the likes of Ryanair and Easyjet. Some particularly tough airlines will charge up to $100 for the pettiest reasons, like if you haven’t printed your boarding pass or if your baggage is only 1cm larger than the permitted dimensions.

    What’s more, these rules are often hidden in fine print to catch you out and squeeze a few more dollars out of you (Ryanair is particularly bad with things like this).

    Standard airlines are usually lenient, budget airlines are not. Make sure you read all the fine print at the bottom of your e-ticket and show up prepared!

    8. Tag your luggage

    Unless your luggage is custom made, chances are there’s someone out there with the exact same bag as you (I’ve seen identical backpacks to mine on multiple occasions).

    It’s a good idea to tie a piece of ribbon or something on it so you can quickly identify it as yours when it pops out on the belt. More importantly, it’ll stop some idiot taking your bag by mistake.

    9. Take an empty water bottle

    You can’t take water through security but you can take your water bottle.

    You can fill this up once you get past the checkpoint at one of the drinking fountains in any good airport.

    In some airports you go through another security checkpoint right before you board, in which case you can ask the flight attendant to fill it up for you with bottled water once you’re on the plane. That way you’re always hydrated and not continuously buzzing the hostess for water like me.

    (A few premium airlines are actually giving out bottled water on board now, which is nice).

    Remember, it’s super important to stay hydrated on long flights. People almost never drink enough. Drink more!

    10. Wear pyjamas or take them on board

    I don’t get why people dress up for flights.

    On a short flight I’m not too fussed about my clothes, but when flying long haul I always wear pyjama pants, a comfortable t-shirt and a hoodie.

    I’ll often fly in flip flops too, if I’m feeling particularly lazy.

    If you don’t like looking like a hippie while wandering through the airport, you can just stuff your lounging clothes in your carry-on bag and slip into them once you’re on board (just cover up with a blanket and do it!)

    Trying to make a long flight more comfortable? Dress for it!!!

    Got any other flying tips? Share them in the comments below!

    Hate flying? Use these ten easy tips to help make a long flight more comforable.
  • Tiny Ramblings From Around The World

    Tiny Ramblings From Around The World

    The French smoke like chimneys. They smoke almost as much as the Chinese, but they make it look classier somehow. When you see a Chinese girl smoking it’s like “No girl what are you doing!” But you see a French girl smoking and it’s like “Hey, that’s kinda sexy.” I don’t really know how that works.

    The Chinese sound and look so rude to the naked foreign eye. But they’re actually really sweet. They just don’t have time to be cordial to everyone, because there’s just so many damn people there. You simply can’t care about everyone in a place that crowded. But if you’re a friend, if you’re family, they’re not only polite and respectful but they’re loyal. The Chinese are incredibly loyal when it comes to their own.

    Japan is the country of extremes. The people are so shy, so humble and submissive. They’re painfully polite. While walking around the country you’ll probably be thinking, “This is the nicest place in the world.” And then you find some adult mega store in the middle of the shopping district, and it’s filled with the most fucked up stuff and you start to wonder if it’s all an act. It’s hard to understand Japan.

    Africa is the most united continent in the world. There’s a community spirit there that doesn’t exist anywhere else. Say you’re in Kenya. Shops will sell Africa t-shirts and Africa necklaces. Billboards will be talking about Africa. When you meet a stranger, they will probably say “Welcome to Africa!” If you go to London nobody is going to say “Welcome to Europe.” If you go to Korea nobody will say “Welcome to Asia.” If Cameroon or Nigeria is playing a World Cup match, the rest of Africa will root for them. You’ll never see that on other continents. Other continents don’t have a sense of unity the way Africa does.

    The Filipinos are the best combination of friendly and fun. For instance, the Japanese are so polite, but they’re too polite. They’re very reserved and it’s hard to get conversation out of them. The Aussies and a lot of Europeans are heaps of fun, but they’re too much fun. They’re getting drunk all the time and it’s hard to really get to know any of them. But the Filipinos are in the middle somewhere. They can have a good time but they’re not crazy either. It’s the perfect mix.

    The easiest way to get a jump out of an American is to say, “Where should I go – East coast or West coast?” You’ll still be sitting there twenty minutes later listening to their impassioned plea about “West Coast is better” or “East Coast is better”. Both sides are equally passionate. “East Coast has way more shit to do broooo”, “West Coast girls are way cooler than them East Coast princesses duude.” It’s pretty funny.

    I’ve never seen a country more obsessed with their celebrities than the Filipinos. They go nuts for their famous people. They’re also obsessed with their social media. There’s more selfies and smartphoning in The Philippines than anywhere else in the world.

    Ethiopia is so misunderstood. The first thing that comes to mind is famine. Then disease. That’s true for a lot of Africa but Ethiopia especially. But it’s not like that at all. Ethiopia is booming. If anyone is wondering where to go in Africa, Ethiopia would be at the top of my list. That country will really surprise you.

    Istanbul is stunning. It’s probably one of the coolest and most beautiful cities I’ve ever been to. It’s painfully gorgeous, feels like one of those magical Arabian cities from the movies or something. But the people let it down. It’s hard to feel welcome there. I couldn’t figure out the people, I guess. That was a real shame for me, because that city could really be something special.

    I feel sorry for the people who live in New York. It’s like, you’re living in this amazing city, it’s one of the greatest cities in the world. But everyone is so on edge. It’s like, yo, chill out! Look around, you’re in New York! It’s like they can’t enjoy the city because they’re going 100% all the time. On the other hand, they don’t really have a choice. You gotta move fast to survive in New York, and that’s also what makes it such an electric place. So it’s kind of a Catch 22, you know?

    I really like London. I didn’t think I would but I do. It’s kind of a polished New York City, just with more of that posh English vibe. But then I also think there’s a bit of savage under that poshness. Did you know of all the countries in the world, England has invaded all but 22 of them? That’s like 90% of the world. They’ve been to war with pretty much everybody. So as I walk around and marvel at London, sometimes I just think to myself, “You guys built this place with blood money.” Is that wrong?

    I don’t get why Germans get such a bad rap. Everyone I meet from Europe hates on the Germans. They seem to have a really solid reputation for arrogance and just being dicks in general. But every German I’ve met has been cool and pretty humble. I’ve never met a German I didn’t get along with.

    Thailand is very easy to hate but it’s also very hard not to like. Does that make sense? Like there’s so much wrong with the place – so many of the stereotypes, about the scams and the sex tourism and the ladyboys – it’s all true to some degree. Plus it’s been totally taken over by mass tourism and package holidays. Yet it’s still so awesome. Despite all the mess it’s really hard not to love Thailand.

    People really owe it to themselves to come to Africa. You can pick any country – Kenya, South Africa, Uganda, whatever. In 24 hours you’re going to see how dumb the media is. All those photos of starving babies lying in the dirt covered in flies – that’s not the whole story. They got shopping malls here, cinemas, french bakeries, everyone’s walking around with smartphones; you’ll even find those health food stores with maca powder and gluten free pasta and all those other first-world-problem products. It’s not the place you think it is.

    The French have a stereotype about being rude and arrogant. You know what? It’s true, but it’s not France. Most of France is cool. It’s Paris. Parisians can really be fucking rude. I’ve never seen such blatant rudeness from anyone else, it’s just the way they are I guess. But I feel like the younger generation is coming around. Not all of them, some of them are still snobs. But I’ve met some really, really awesome young French people. Not all hope is lost for France just yet.

    I feel like Singapore is the vanilla milkshake of travelling. I mean, everything’s fine. The food’s good, the people are nice, it’s safe and easy to get around, it has all your western comforts. But that’s it. There’s nothing really to see or do there, but you can’t hate it either, because there’s nothing wrong with the place. So what do you do? You just shrug your shoulders and go, “Eh, so this is Singapore.” And you just kinda walk around and eat.

    Cambodia is going to break your heart. There’s no way it won’t. Plus, it’s not an easy place to visit for a curious person. It’s history is so mind-numbing and like, you want to know more, but then you don’t. The thing is, you actually can know more. You can know anything you want, because all that shit happened so recently – the country is full of survivors, full of people that have first hand knowledge of everything, they lived it, they saw it all with their own eyes. And you see all these people rebuilding their lives after the terror and you want ask them what it was like. You want to know their story, all the details. But then you feel like an asshole bringing that shit up all the time, so you kinda just people-watch and wonder. Your curiosity eats you up inside. It’s like that friend you know who has some mad gossip but you’re too afraid to ask.

    I see New Zealand so differently now. First of all, I understand why foreigners love it. To the tourist eye, New Zealand is probably as close to paradise as you can get. Mountains, beaches, good food, cool people, chilled out, safe, clean, developed. On the surface the place is heaven. It has everything the tourist or expat could ever want. But that’s my home – I grew up there, so I know the place. I know the bullshit that goes on there. So every time I visit another country, no matter how awesome it is, I need to remind myself that they must have bullshit going on there too. Bullshit is everywhere.

    Bulgaria is like that secret hiding place you used to have as a kid. Like it wasn’t hard to find or anything, it was just there, behind some tree or something, but it was so good, it was perfect. And you just couldn’t believe that nobody knew it was there. It’s like, how could nobody know about such an awesome place? That’s what Bulgaria is like.

    Israelis are a strange bunch. They talk to you as if they’re yelling at you, and you think you might have beef or something, but then you find out that’s just how they talk. They’re just loud, eccentric people. Most Israeli dudes I’ve met have been pretty gnarly and on edge but if you stay on their good side they’re pretty cool to hang out with.

    I like the Irish. Personality-wise, I feel like they are the closest people out there to the Kiwis – small country, proud, funny accent. People say Irish people always love to scrap but they’ve always seemed pretty chill to me. I guess they are kind of long lost cousins of ours. I’m just surprised they don’t have a better rugby team.

    I can’t figure out the difference between the Ecuadorians and the Peruvians. That’s probably a huge insult to them both, but I mean, that’s what I see. Their accents are the same, they look the same, they eat the same food. Yet for some reason I like Ecuador better. I can’t figure out why.

    Colombia is underwhelming at first. It has such a strong reputation that you go there and you’re expecting something wild, and then it turns out to be just a pretty normal country. Shopping malls, nice people, buses. It’s like, hey, where’s all the crazy stuff? And then you settle in and realise what a fricken awesome place it is. Great food, beautiful women, lots of things to see. It’s like, if you had just told me the truth I would’ve come here so much sooner.

    You know what I’ve noticed about Canadians? They’re all the same. Like Aussies are all different, some are really rowdy, some are real quiet and geeky, some are all business and some are hippie surfer types. Same goes for Brits and Americans and all that. But Canadians just seem to be all the same. I mean they’re all jolly and cool to hang out with and stuff, but they all talk the same, do the same stuff, have the same accent, the same opinions. It’s like Canada has a way of churning out a certain type of citizen. It’s really weird.

    I’ve studied a lot of languages now and I’ve concluded that English has got to be the dumbest language ever invented. Half the rules make no sense at all. Like the sound “ph”. Why does that even exist? Why can’t we just spell “phone” as “fone” and “graph” as “graf”? Do you know how much easier that would make life for kids around the world? If people didn’t have to learn all these dumb rules in English we would’ve saved literally tens of billions of man hours. Those could’ve been devoted to something else, like curing cancer. It’s not a stretch to say we could’ve cured cancer by now if it weren’t for all these stupid rules in English.

    Every time I walk around an airport I just wonder what it would’ve been like to travel fifty years ago – nobody rummaging through my bags, no standing like a starfish in some x-ray machine. We keep saying we won’t be terrorised but it’s like, c’mon, get real. Have you even been to an airport lately? We can’t even take water on a plane anymore. We’ve been absolutely terrorised.

    You know, movies like The Lion King are genius. I saw that film when I was around seven years old, and then when I came to Tanzania nearly twenty years later I found out that “simba” was Swahili for lion, “rafiki” was Swahili for friend and “hakuna matata” really does mean no worries. Lion King was teaching me Swahili before I even knew it was a language and they made that movie so well that I still remembered all those words nearly two decades later. They need to make more movies like that.

    A lot of people go to poor countries and harp on about how much happier poor people are. It’s not really true. Poor people aren’t happy just like rich people aren’t happy. They’re both unhappy but they’re unhappy about different things. I think it’s not really possible for anyone to be 100% happy.

    I have a feeling the Dutch must be pretty tired of getting asked about weed. It’s like as soon as someone says they’re Dutch people ask them, “So do you like, go to coffee shops and get stoned all the time?” I used to do that too, until I realised what a dumb question it was, so I’ve been trying hard not to ask dumb questions like that. It’s like when someone asks me about Lord of the Rings as if it was filmed just down the street from my house or something. It’s like, bro, I haven’t even seen those damn movies.

    Got any ramblings of your own? Leave them in the comments below!

  • The Question That Changed My Life

    The Question That Changed My Life

    “It’s been said that we don’t recognise the significant moments of our lives while they’re happening.” – Nathan Scott

    I was crying. I didn’t know what to do. Life was throwing all these stupid problems on me, and I didn’t know how to fight back. So he just smiled, looked at me, and asked me the question that would change my life.

    “Your happiness will depend on the answer to this one question,” he told me.

    “It’s the most important question you can ever ask yourself. Only you know the answer. You might not know the answer yet, and the answer will change all the time. But you need to keep asking yourself – what do you want?”

    Interestingly, I’d never thought about life that way. I’d always thought about what my parents wanted, or what my girlfriend wanted, or what my boss wanted. But I’d never really asked myself what I wanted.

    That day was a powerful moment in my life. I realised I was in control of my own happiness, and any unhappiness I experienced was a result of my own choices. It was the most logical thing in the world, yet I needed to hear it from someone else before it registered.

    So I started to ask myself, what do I want? Do I even know? At that very moment, I didn’t. But I decided that when I did, I would make it happen. I would take what I wanted, completely and unapologetically. I didn’t care what anyone else wanted anymore. If I didn’t start living for myself today, when would I? Tomorrow? Five years from now? Ten? Would I even still be alive then?

    One month after that conversation took place I set off on my journey around the world. My parents wanted me to keep focusing on my career. My boss didn’t want me to quit. My girlfriend had wanted to get married. But what everyone else wanted didn’t matter anymore. I knew what I wanted, and I was going to get it.

    You might be thinking, “that’s just selfish.” And you’re right, it is. But I want to tell you it’s okay to be selfish. If you don’t look out for yourself, if you don’t carve out the life that you want, who will? If you died tomorrow, your boss will replace you within a week. Your girlfriend will find another guy to marry. Your friends will cry and then get on with their lives. Are these the people you’re living your life for? No. You need to be living for you. And when you live for you and chase after what you want – that’s when the world becomes yours.

    I want you to think back to your childhood. Maybe you were five or six, and your friend told you to throw a water balloon at your neighbour. You knew it was wrong, but you did it. You never liked that neighbour anyway.

    Then your mother came and smacked you across the face and the first thing to come out of your mouth was “John told me to do it.”

    Staring at you with devil eyes, your mother would scream, “If John told you to walk off a cliff, would you do it?”

    “No.”

    Yet every single day, we all walk off cliffs. Our days are spent doing crappy things, and we do them not because we want to, but because John told us to.

    “If John told you to work a shitty job, would you do it?”

    “If John told you to study some boring ass thing at university, would you do it?”

    If John told you to wear a dorky looking suit and tie, would you do it?”

    Even though our mothers taught us to say no, we always, always say yes.

    Well, today, I’m your mother. I’m the one slapping you in the face. But instead of just scolding you, I want you to ask yourself why you keep doing these things. What’s stopping you from doing what you want? What’s the real reason your dreams are stashed in the bottom drawer?

    I’ll tell you.

    The answer is fear. You’re afraid.

    You’re afraid of being in control. When you work a shitty job and you hate your life, it doesn’t matter because you have someone to blame.

    “I didn’t have a choice – it’s what my parents wanted.”

    “I wanted to do something else, but my wife wouldn’t have approved.”

    “I couldn’t get time off work. My boss wouldn’t let me.”

    I get it. You’re a victim. Other people were responsible for your misery. You didn’t have a choice.

    Wanna know something? That’s bullshit. It’s a bullshit excuse and you’ve been hiding behind it your whole life. You don’t need to do these things. You don’t need to listen to these people. The reason you follow this path is because if it all goes to shit, it won’t be your fault.

    If you quit your desk job and travel the world, start a business, become a monk or open a yoga school, you have nobody else to blame. No one told you to do it. John didn’t tell you to walk off this cliff. You did it all on your own and that means if you fail you’ll have to stand up and admit to the world that you fucked up.

    You’re afraid.

    Guess what? I am too. These days, I spend my time travelling, working online, living a somewhat unconventional life and earning a lot less money than I used to. I see all my old colleagues in their fancy suits earning six-figure salaries, getting married and buying up houses. Do you think I’m not afraid that one day when we’re forty I’ll be clipping coupons and living in a straw hut while they’re sitting by the pool with their feet up? Of course I’m afraid. I feel fear just like everyone else. But I don’t let my fear drive me. I let my dreams drive me. If I succeed I will look back with pride, and if I fail I will stand up and admit that I fucked up. Either way, I’ll have no regrets, and you shouldn’t either. In the words of a very wise man, it’s better to die standing than to live on your knees.

    So if the first question that will change your life is “what do you want?”, the second question becomes “what are you afraid of?”

    It might be dying from some tropical disease, or going bankrupt and losing everything you’ve worked for. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. You can be afraid of a million things and it doesn’t change anything.

    Why?

    Because everyone feels fear. It’s normal. Fear is good. It keeps us aware. It tells us something big is about to happen.

    Cus D’Amato, one of the greatest boxing trainers of all time used to say, there is no difference between a hero and a coward. They both feel the same fear. The only difference is that the hero does something, and the coward doesn’t.

    Fear can be our greatest enemy or our greatest inspiration. Only you can choose if you want to run from it or overcome it. If you want to run from it, close this blog post and go back to whatever you were doing. If you want to overcome it, ask yourself a third question.

    What’s the worst that can happen?

    If you packed it all in and went full speed towards a dream today, would you die? Would life be over? If I failed tomorrow, the worst that would happen is I’d come home, tail between my legs, and I’d return to my old career as an accountant. If I started a business and went bankrupt, I’d pack it up, put my tie back on, and go back to working as an accountant. But that’s exactly what my life was before I left home anyway. When you define your worst case scenario, you may find you have very little to lose. You may, in fact, be living that worst case scenario already.

    The coward walks off cliffs. The hero walks where he wants.

    You need to decide which side you’re going to be on.

    Do you want to change your life?

    Decide what you want.

    Overcome your fear.

    Come and get it.

    See you on the other side.

  • Everything I Learned About Life And Happiness I Learned From Accounting

    Everything I Learned About Life And Happiness I Learned From Accounting

    Throughout your time on this planet many things will move in and out of your life. Some will be good and some will be bad, but everything will have a role in shaping who you are and where you end up.

    There will be things you welcome into your life, such as nice cars with drink holders big enough to fit your over-sized protein shakes, big televisions you can watch the Playboy channel on, and friends in high places who can get you into nightclubs without waiting in line. You will welcome these things and people into your life because they have value and and fulfill your needs. In accounting, we refer to these things as assets.

    There will also be things you would rather not have in your life. These are things like a mortgage from the bank with a zillion percent interest rate, or a debt from a dodgy loan shark named Toothpick to fuel your online poker addiction. In accounting we refer to these as liabilities.

    The difference between an asset and a liability is probably the first thing you will ever learn in accounting class (if you’re not asleep already). In layman’s terms, an asset is something you own, while a liability is something you owe. Assets are good and liabilities are bad. If you have many assets and few liabilities, you will be rich. In accounting, we refer to this richness as equity.

    After reading the work of several accomplished investors, my view of assets and liabilities changed. I learned assets were no longer things I owned, but were only things I owned that brought money into my life. Liabilities were things I owned that took money out of my life.

    An accountant would tell you a car is an asset because it’s worth money and you own it, but to an investor it is a liability, because it causes you to spend thousands of dollars on petrol, warrants, insurance and servicing, but doesn’t produce any income.

    I started viewing many textbook assets such as houses, bikes and clothing as liabilities, and it started becoming clear to me why so many people were struggling financially – because they were amassing “assets” that were only taking more money out of their lives.

    I now look at life the same way. As we all know there is much more to life than money, so we should consider the assets and liabilities in our life from more than just a financial perspective.

    I like to think of things from a point of happiness, or fulfillment.

    A life asset is something that improves your happiness or quality of life.

    A life liability is something that causes you stress or suffering.

    A supportive group of friends would be extremely valuable assets, while a nagging, bitchy girlfriend would be a liability.

    For a healthy life you would therefore aim to spend good amounts of time with your friends and then try to amass even more quality friends, or assets. In accounting, we call this capital investment. You should also aim to make the unpleasant girlfriend an ex-girlfriend as fast as possible. In accounting, we call this a disposal.

    The next thing we learn about in accounting class is the concept of capital. Capital refers to the resources that you, the owner, have available to generate wealth in your life. Of course, in this context wealth simply means happiness. What resources do you have available to you to create happiness in your life?

    Some people were lucky in life and were born with more capital than others. The short, pudgy, Shrek looking kid might look at the 6’2 rich-kid pretty boy with an overwhelming sense of envy and bitterness. But many of the world’s most successful people forged their destinies with a modest amount of life capital. 

    To be a famous actor you’re supposed to be tall, have a six pack, and a head of perfect hair, but Danny DeVito is bald, fat, 5’1, yet became one of the most versatile and celebrated actors in Hollywood. He simply decided to be awesome and made miracles happen with his capital. A living legend.

    Is life easier when you were born with greater capital? Probably. But that doesn’t mean you can spend your life complaining about it. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses in the game we call life, and everyone has the ability to win.

    Easy or not, you take the capital you have and you build your empire. 

    You can’t win if you don’t play.

    Danny DeVitoDanny DeVito is fat, short and bald, and reached the highest success in an industry where everyone is supposed to have abs and be tall with perfect hair. A legend.

    During the course of building our empires we will all makes mistakes. Mistakes in life are simply things we do that are not successful in bringing us happiness. We might spend some of our life capital, such as our time, emotions or money, on things that don’t turn out the way we wanted them to. In accounting, we call these expenses.

    A good example of this might be a bad relationship or a bad career choice. But expenses are not always a bad thing, and any successful businessman will tell you expenses are unavoidable. Our expenses in life are nothing more than experience in disguise.

    As life goes on, some of our expenses will lead to victories. In accounting, we refer to these victories as revenue. 

    Revenue in life is when we succeed in something and receive a piece of happiness. Perhaps, after a few years of dating crazy bitches you find a sweet girl who is a joy to be with, or maybe after dating an Xbox-playing couch potato you meet a cool travel blogger whose name starts with B and ends in N.

    A successful business cannot exist without reliable revenue streams, just as a successful life cannot exist without consistent victories. When you find a source of revenue or happiness, you must hold onto it, cherish it and duplicate it.

    These are instrumental to a full and happy life.

    Oftentimes people are unable to do this. Their expenses are too high and their revenues are too low or non-existent. For some people, just waiting in line at the bank will piss them off and ruin their entire day.

    This is because they have no sources of revenue, or happiness, to offset this expense, or problem. They know after standing in this line they will need to go back to a job they hate, have no time to go to the gym to work off their pot belly, and will go home at night to someone they cannot stand. Eventually, it will take just one traffic jam or one drop of mayonnaise on their shirt before they lose their shit and have a total mental breakdown. In accounting, we call this bankruptcy.

    This occurs when your expenses or struggles are through the sky, your revenues or victories are non-existent and you have no more will or capital to continue on. This is when you know it’s time to start over.

    Eventually, you will find your path. If you don’t allow any negative energies into your life and only pursue things that bring you happiness, you will be able to minimise your expenses and maximise your revenues. You will be living a life of few mistakes and many victories. In accounting, we refer to this as profit.

    Profit, or overall happiness, is achieved when our revenue is greater than our expenses. You might find yourself waiting in the same queue at the bank but you won’t be angry this time. You will be ecstatic, because perhaps you’re waiting in a bank in Hawaii or the Mediterranean – you’re on an exciting trip around the world and the revenue from this will far exceed the expense of waiting in a bank line.

    When your revenues are so great and abundant, your expenses will seem so small you’ll barely notice them at all.

    So, how do we live profitable lives?

    We put ourselves in a position where our revenues can be high and our expenses can be low. The successful businessman will always ask himself whether his expenses are generating revenue or not. If not, he will cut the expense and allocate his capital elsewhere.

    When you have something bringing you immense unhappiness, such as an unhealthy lifestyle, a toxic relationship or a shitty job, you always need to assess whether this is going to eventually produce some revenue or happiness in your life.

    If your boss, business partner, girlfriend or boyfriend is driving you insane, ask yourself what revenue they are bringing into your life; are they bringing you closer to your dreams and goals? If not, you need to put them up for sale and give them the boot. In accounting, we call this reallocating capital. 

    Remember, your capital is scarce. Don’t waste it on expenses that aren’t worth it.

    You will need to reallocate capital many times throughout your life. Your assets and liabilities are never set in stone and they can always turn from good to bad and vice versa.

    You might have a boyfriend who has been a huge asset for many years and then suddenly turns into an alcoholic and sleeps with your sister. You might have a girlfriend who used to take your breath away and then she turns into a level 5 crazy with a moustache. In accounting, we refer to this as depreciation.

    Sometimes the depreciated assets in your life can be restored with a little repairs and maintenance, but more often than not they will need to be removed from your life. In accounting, we refer to this removal as a write off. If you feel there are old assets lying around bringing negative energy into your life, don’t let them get too far. Write that shit off and move on.

    You will make some enemies along the way. People you thought were on your side but really just used you as a stepping stone or a doormat. The simple fact is, most people resent those who go in search of big dreams, and you can’t allow this to stop you.

    Surround yourself with people who lift you up, not bring you down. These are the people who will help produce revenue in your life. 

    As for the others, use them to motivate you. Prove yourself right and everyone else wrong. In business, we call these people competition.

    Competition is always good for business.

    Often the hardest thing about becoming profitable is changing direction. Many people go bankrupt because they couldn’t adapt to an unprofitable situation. In fact, in today’s world, the business environment changes so quickly that companies who fail to adapt disappear very quickly.

    Life is no different.

    When the iPod comes out, don’t be like Sony and keep making Walkmans hoping they’re going to make a comeback. You must change and adapt.

    If your career is not producing happiness in your life, change it now.

    If your relationship is a never ending source of stress, cut it now.

    If your diet and lifestyle is making you cry when you look in the mirror, change it now.

    You might be thinking, “oh but I’ve been working on this career for twenty years and it’s so stupid to change now”, or “we’ve been dating for 5 years and I just can’t do it”, but what has happened in the past is irrelevant. The fact you’ve already invested a lot of capital in something is not a good reason to keep it in your life.

    In accounting, we refer to these as sunk costs.

    The savvy businessman always removes sunk costs from the decision-making process because they are irreversible and therefore irrelevant. We do not look to the past, only the future.

    Take a piece of paper and draw a line down the middle. On the left side write down all the things in your life that are making you happy. Then on the right side write down all the things that are making you unhappy.

    In accounting, we call this piece of paper a balance sheet.

    A balance sheet tells you whether or not your business is healthy. The piece of paper you have in front of you is now the balance sheet of your life. The goal is not dollars, but happiness.

    If the right side of your balance sheet is overflowing and the left side is empty, your life is a mess. Your profits will be non-existent and investors would not be interested in touching you with a poop covered pole. In accounting, we refer to this as insolvency.

    This means you will not be attracting many good people or experiences into your life. In fact, you will probably have many bad people coming into your life, some of whom will sense your weakness.

    Perhaps an employer will see your dire situation and not bother giving you a payrise, because he knows you can’t quit anyway, or maybe some crazy will sense your loneliness and try and get close to you to take advantage of you. In accounting, we refer to this as a hostile takeover.

    On the other hand, if the left side is full and the right side isn’t, your life is very attractive. Many people will want to invest in and be a part of it and you will have a life of high revenue, or happiness. Whatever expenses life throws at you will be manageable, because your balance sheet is so strong you will have nothing to worry about. You will also be in a position to be a positive influence on the life of those around you and the people you care about.

    You might not have an overflowing bank account, but your life will be full of revenue streams of happiness you can share with those who are important to you. You win.

    It’s time to size up your capital – the resources you have available to make a difference in the world and create your happiness. What do you have to offer? Size up your health, education, finances, your drive and your passion, your wit and charm, your friends and family, who you are and where you come from. 

    Do you feel like you have less capital than the next guy?

    Boo hoo. 

    Life waits for nobody and you can get up and start moving or cry in the corner. Nobody cares.

    Besides, we might start from different places but we’re all on the same rock.

    Life is just a game. You’re dealt the cards you’re dealt.

    Now play.

    To endless profits and happiness,

    Bren

    Brendan is a 29-year old Chartered Accountant who hopes to never work as an accountant again in this life or the next. He hopes you appreciated this attempt to make accounting interesting. If you are an accounting professor and have issue with how he defined the terms in his article above, you may leave your concerns in the comments section below. If you are an accountant reading this at work, please charge your time to brenontheroad.com. The reading of this article can be added to your CPD hours. Expected reading time is 15 minutes.

  • Book Review: Eat, Pray, Love (Yes, I Read It)

    Book Review: Eat, Pray, Love (Yes, I Read It)

    I hear about this book ALL THE EFFING TIME. Even today, nine years after its release, girls on the road are still talking about it. And of course, whenever I’m in the conversation, I tend to join the hater’s camp, even though I’ve neither read the book nor seen the movie.

    I decided earlier this year I should change that. If this many people are talking about a damn book about Bali, it can’t be half bad, right?

    So, I read it. I even purchased it on Kindle for seven dollars or whatever, instead of just stealing it from a book exchange. You’re welcome, Miss Gilbert (or is it Mrs now? I have no idea).

    Now, what I noticed early on in the book was, I was actually wrong about it being about a Bali trip. It’s actually about a one year trip to Italy, then India, and then Bali – hence the name Eat, Pray, Love. Ding.

    For myself, and I assume for any regular red-blooded male, the book doesn’t begin well. Here’s the very first paragraph:

    I wish Giovanni would kiss me. Oh, but there are so many reasons why this would be a terrible idea. To begin with, Giovanni is ten years younger than I am, and— like most Italian guys in their twenties— he still lives with his mother. These facts alone make him an unlikely romantic partner for me, given that I am a professional American woman in my mid-thirties, who has just come through a failed marriage and a devastating, interminable divorce, followed immediately by a passionate love affair that ended in sickening heartbreak. This loss upon loss has left me feeling sad and brittle and about seven thousand years old. Purely as a matter of principle I wouldn’t inflict my sorry, busted-up old self on the lovely, unsullied Giovanni. Not to mention that I have finally arrived at that age where a woman starts to question whether the wisest way to get over the loss of one beautiful brown-eyed young man is indeed to promptly invite another one into her bed. This is why I have been alone for many months now. This is why, in fact, I have decided to spend this entire year in celibacy.

    Still awake? Cool.

    The next few chapters she seems to to and fro between relaying strange thoughts, talking to herself, and rationalising her divorce. It’s pretty clear, at least to me, that this woman has more than a few crossed wires up there, but it’s quite an insight for us guys into the female brain. Consider this passage which comes shortly after the above, referring to David, the boytoy/fling she’s entertaining while waiting for her divorce to iron out:

    David and I continued to have our bouts of fun and compatibility during the days, but at night, in his bed, I became the only survivor of a nuclear winter as he visibly retreated from me, more every day, as though I were infectious. I came to fear nighttime like it was a torturer’s cellar. I would lie there beside David’s beautiful, inaccessible sleeping body and I would spin into a panic of loneliness and meticulously detailed suicidal thoughts. Every part of my body pained me. I felt like I was some kind of primitive spring-loaded machine, placed under far more tension than it had ever been built to sustain, about to blast apart at great danger to anyone standing nearby. I imagined my body parts flying off my torso in order to escape the volcanic core of unhappiness that had become: me.

    If that’s not a drama queen, I don’t know what is. Is that what’s going through a girl’s mind while we roll over and go to sleep? That’s what you’re thinking when we don’t cuddle? I think I understand now.

    The next nine chapters are Miss Gilbert talking about herself, or more specifically, her divorce, or more specifically, her divorce that hasn’t yet happened but is going to happen soon. After 30 pages, it’s pretty clear that Elizabeth Gilbert has a debilitating case of rich white girl problems which is turning into quite the American telenovela. She owns an expensive house in New York; she has a husband who loves her and wants to raise a family together; she’s a successful published writer; she has a job that allows her to travel the world. Yet she’s absurdly miserable, or, in her own words, has “spent the last forty-seven consecutive nights sobbing on the bathroom floor.”

    Anyway.

    The first nine chapters (yes, nine) could be summed up as “I’m bored of being married. I filed for divorce and now we’re fighting over who gets our fancy New York house, apartment and all our money. It’s like, literally, like, ruining my life. I’m willing to give him everything (but not really) so I can just go and travel. I can’t decide whether to go to Italy, India or Indonesia so I’m going to all of them. And my boyfriend hates me.”

    Ok fine, to be fair to Miss Gilbert, I’m paraphrasing. Quite heavily. But that’s essentially the first nine chapters of the book.

    One thing I do notice at this point, however, is she’s a brilliant writer. She even gives me a few LOL’s, which are usually pretty hard to get out of me without using wildly immature toilet humour. I guess that’s why she gets book deals. But on the other hand, she just comes across as the most whiny, overly dramatic woman I think I’ve ever come across. Reading the first few chapters is like being stuck in an elevator with an ex-girlfriend you cannot stand, who is still in love with you, while she’s on her period.

    Yet, something compels me to keep reading. When she finally gets to Italy to study Italian, I start to relate to her a little more. I’ve done the study a foreign language in a new city all alone before, and many of her observations resonate with me. I can’t say it’s riveting stuff, but most travellers will probably relate. We’re not quite on the same page, but we’re getting there.

    However, halfway through her Italy spell I really struggle to read on. She is constantly harping on about her emotions and indecisiveness – “I like him, I don’t like him, but I do like him, but I don’t like him. I love eating, but I hate eating, oh but I love eating, but I hate eating.” I already lose my mind listening to that in real life, so I really, really struggle to voluntarily read an entire book about it. I find myself rolling my eyes constantly with an “ugh” and throwing the book aside to go on Youtube or watch the NBA highlights. I’ve heard this woman talk about her feelings so much I feel like I’m in a relationship with her.

    We need a break.

    I file the book away on my digital bookshelf and start reading Tim Ferriss’ 4 Hour Body instead. I’m reclaiming my manliness. It’s all about muscles and working out and superfoods. Grrr.

    After two weeks, I decide to stop playing hard to get and open the book again. I miss you, Elizabeth. Tell me what you’ve been up to.

    Italy ends without much action and she moves onto India. She goes to live in an ashram and makes friends with a bunch of other foreigners, living in this holy place of silence, prayer and meditation. I secretly hope this will help her filter her thoughts and clear her mind, and it sort of does, in a way. She’s a little less whiny.

    But only a little.

    The book does start to fall flat at this point. I mean, I’m sure it was interesting for her, but it’s not for the reader. She wakes up, meditates, eats, goes to sleep. That’s essentially her time in India.

    At this stage, while reading through her words, my mind wanders and I’m not really digesting any of what she’s saying. Instead, while I mindlessly turn pages, I start to reflect a little on myself. Everything about her screams “princess” to me, but her and I have a few things in common. I also had a nice cushy job and left it for no other reason than I hated it. I travelled aimlessly around the world, too. She went to Italy to learn Italian “just because she felt like it”, and I went to Spain to do exactly the same thing. In the end, are we really so different, her and I? Maybe not. Ouch.

    After India, I feel like Elizabeth and I need another time out. Our relationship’s not a cheery one. I’m finding it hard to listen to her emotional complexities, and she’s finding it hard to hold my attention for more than ten pages at a time.

    We go on another break.

    Almost a month later, when my Kindle is all out of books, I finally decide to finish this damn thing.

    She’s in Bali. Woop. She manages to start some kind of odd friendship with a fortune teller, slash medicine man, slash spiritual healer, and she also befriends a traditional medicine lady who cures her UTI with a herbal potion, among other things. And of course, she meets a man. Welcome to the Love section of Eat, Pray, Love, gentlemen. And wow, she really is in love. She’s no longer whiny, wimpy and insane, she’s now all rainbows and raspberries and happy feelings.

    “I have never been loved and adored like this before by anyone, never with such pleasure and single-minded concentration. Never have I been so unpeeled, revealed, unfurled and hurled through the event of love making…I’m losing days here, disappearing under his sheets, under his hands. I like the feeling of not knowing what the date is. My nice organized schedule has been blown away by the breeze.”

    It’s a romantic comedy now – a chick flick, or at least the final twenty minutes of one. But I’ll be honest – despite the lovey dovey drivel, around this stage of the book she actually starts to win me over. The complaining ends, and she starts to embrace her adventure for what it is – an adventure. She’s no longer running away from her fancy New York life; she’s simply in Bali and enjoying being in Bali. Meeting new people, making friends, and making the most of a simpler, happier life. She’s embracing life on the road. Of course, the navel-gazing doesn’t end completely, but it becomes more positive and insightful. We start to find a few things in common. It seems travel has all but cured the mid-life crisis, or in her case, the mid-life raging apocalypse. Good for you, Liz.

    And that’s really it. She falls in love and lives happily ever after. The end.

    So I ripped on her a lot in this post, and I guess it’s because I didn’t really “get” half the book. At least half a dozen times I literally said out loud to my Kindle, “what the fuck are you saying?”
    Whatever. I’m not apologising.

    But to be completely fair, I needed to really sit back and ask myself honestly, what did I think of it?

    I didn’t hate it. Not exactly, anyway. I did get to the end, after all. The incessant whining about nothing can be hard to get through, and I will admit I needed to skip a few pages here and there, but in the end I don’t begrudge her for leaving an unfulfilling domestic life to travel the world. Travel is an escape for many of us, after all. I did, however, find it selfish how she left her very loving husband because simply, in her own words, “I don’t want to be married anymore” but hey, I’m selfish too. We all are.

    There are also great moments of wisdom in there, but interestingly, they don’t come from Gilbert herself but rather the people she meets along the way. For example, in India, she meets a guy called Richard, probably my favourite character in the story, who seems like an all around cool guy who’d be great to share a beer with. He drops this on her during one of her mental breakdowns about one of her boyfriends:

    “People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that’s what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave.”

    Interesting.

    Then there’s Ketut, the palm reader/spiritual guru who I’m sure is a guazillionaire now:

    “You have been to hell, Ketut?” He smiled. Of course he’s been.
    “What’s it like in hell?”
    “Same like heaven,” he said.
    He saw my confusion and tried to explain. “Universe is a circle, Liss.”
    I still wasn’t sure I understood.
    He said, “To up, to down — all same, at end.”
    I remembered an old Christian mystic notion: As above, so below. I asked. “Then how can you tell the difference between heaven and hell?”
    “Because of how you go. Heaven, you go up, through seven happy places. Hell, you go down, through seven sad places. This is why it better for you to go up, Liss.” He laughed.
    I asked , “You mean, you might as well spend your life going upward, through the happy places, since heaven and hell— the destinations—are the same thing anyway?”
    “Same-same,” he said.

    Little gems like this are definitely one of the book’s redeeming qualities, and they pop up semi-often throughout the latter half of the story.

    Lastly, she does write extremely well – she’s candid, honest, and seems like a nice enough girl. Okay, so she’s a little crazy, but crazy is infinitely better than boring. If crazy gets her on an adventure around the world, so be it. And the book obviously appeals because, hey, she lives the ultimate fantasy – leaves a ‘miserable’ domestic life to adventure around the world and fall in love with a rich Latino businessman. What girl doesn’t fantasise about that?

    It’s obviously a book aimed at women – I bet Oprah freakin’ loved it – so men, read at your own risk. I, personally, didn’t take any big inspiration from it, and there’s no way in hell I’d ever read it again. But, even for me, there were parts I enjoyed. It is a travel memoir after all, and in between the melodramatic rants there are actually some heart-warming travel moments in there, along with the aforementioned bobs of wisdom. Is it worth mowing through the fat to find them? I’ll let you decide for yourself.

    As with my other book reviews, I need to give it a score out of 10, so I’ll go ahead and give it a generous 5.

    Anyway, the best part now is, I can finally join in the discussion.

    What, you guys are talking about Eat Pray Love? Oh yeah? Let me in here. I’ve read that shit.

  • A Diary: Five Days In London

    A Diary: Five Days In London

    I wake up to the clanging of dishes in the kitchen. Someone’s up. Not me, though. I lie huddled under blankets on the couch, awake, but still.

    I’m guessing it’s George – she told me she’d be getting up early.

    After five minutes of dozing I peel myself off the couch and put on some pants. And then I sit back down. Do I go and say hello? Or should I leave her to do her morning ritual in peace? Back when I was a suit, I hated being disturbed in the morning. Any place before 8am was not my happy place.

    Eventually I get up and walk into the kitchen. She’s sitting there, eating a pretty typical white girl breakfast – eggs with some green stuff. I think about reaching over and stealing a bite, but decide our friendship isn’t quite there yet. We only met some 12 hours ago.

    I grab a glass of water and sit. We talk. She looks smart, dressed up all fancy in some office girl clothes, like Ally McBeal. In another life, I would’ve been sitting next to her, tailored suit and tie, chowing on a bowl of rice, eggs and soy sauce, getting ready to head to my own London office. But not in this life. There is no big-shot fancy-suit broadway-show London in my story. The only London I’ll know is the sleep-on-a-couch, eat-prepackaged-supermarket-meals and watch-buskers-in-Trafalgar-Square London. The high life passed me by a long time ago.

    Stephen Brown is a farm boy. The way he talks about horses, one would think he’s going to end up marrying one. But the farm isn’t around right now. Right now, he’s a big shot in London, which I’m thankful for, because I’m sleeping on his couch. I knew I stayed friends with this guy for a reason.

    I know Stephen Brown from my accounting days. He worked downstairs, I worked upstairs. Same shit, different desk. But we got along, me and him.

    When I get home from my day out in London, he’s sitting there eating fajitas.

    “Want some of this, bro?” he asks.

    Yeah, I do, actually.

    We sit and eat at his dining room table. Damn, I miss having a dining room table.

    I look around his kitchen. There are veges in the fridge, spices on the rack, protein up on the top shelf. He’s got a motorbike outside. A girlfriend with a sweet smile. A healthy paycheck.

    The man’s got a life here in London.

    In New Zealand, people always speak of “the London thing”. You go to university, you get a job, you save up some cash, and then you get that one way ticket to Heathrow. You get your two year visa, earn some pounds, do that funny thing with your taxes, travel Europe on the weekends, and then bring all that dosh home to buy a house. Want to travel? Do the London thing. Want to earn mad cash? Do the London thing. Everyone loves the London thing.

    Stephen Brown is doing the London thing. He’s doing it well. He’ll head home with memories and some mad stacks. But what about me? What about my London thing? I did the exams. I got the grades. But there’s no London thing in my story. There are no big paychecks. I don’t get the chance to fall in love with London like they do.

    I get home and the house is empty. It’s 7pm. Stephen Brown is nowhere to be seen. Neither are his roommates. I sit on the couch and listen to Taylor Swift.

    Then I hear the door. It’s Rachel.

    “Hi!!” she says enthusiastically as she walks in. A little too enthusiastically, in fact. She pulls off her heels with a smile. What’s she so happy about?

    “What’s up?” I say, smiling.

    “I’m gooood, I’ve just been at the bar, I’m going to make a cuppa, would you like one?”

    “Sure. Green, if you have it.”

    She’s so bubbly – reminds me of Summer Roberts.

    “Yeeeaaah of course! I’ve got green with ginger and lemon, and jasmine green, and plain green, what would you like?”

    “Green with lemon, if you don’t mind,” I say, trying to sound British.

    She fiddles in the kitchen for a few minutes and then, with teas in hand, hands me mine and sits back at the kitchen table.

    “So…” she begins, giggling, “Steve told me that, you were like, working as an accountant, and then one day you just said FUCK IT and started travelling around the world. Is that true?”

    I nod slowly. Stephen Brown talks too much.

    “I guess it’s kinda true, yeah.”

    “Oh my gosh, I would so love to…just…drop it and go like that.”

    “You should,” I smile.

    “I’m going to, soon. I really want to.”

    We talk for the next half hour. She tells me everything about her. Her past relationship and why she wants to travel and all her drama and fears and plans. No filter, it all comes out. I’ve known this girl maybe 72 hours and she’s already telling me her entire E! Hollywood story. After hearing her travel plans and giving my bit of advice, I tell her how every traveller out there fits into a box; a profile.

    Me? I was the Peter Pan 9-5 Corporate Runaway.

    Her? She’d be an Eat Pray Love girl.

    But it’s weird, because I see a lot of myself in her story, too. I also was the broken relationship need-to-get-the-fuck-out-of-here guy once. I offer that to her, so she knows I get it. I’ve been there too, bro.

    “So what did you do today?” she asks.

    “I just woke up, meditated, did some writing, walked around, got some food.”

    “Meditated? What’s that about?

    “I just do it, to clear my head. It’s easy. We can do a session now, if you want.”

    “Yeah! Can we? Let’s!

    She jumps up and comes over to the couch, and I pull out my phone and start a beginner’s audio. We do ten minutes. I can hear her breathing super deeply beside me. I’m impressed. She’s taking the shit real serious.

    When it’s finally over, she opens her eyes slowly in a gaze, staring blankly in front of her.

    “Wow. I feel so mellow right now. How often do you do that?”

    “I try to do it every day. It helps with the writing.”

    “That’s so awesome. I really need that. I find it really hard to clear my head. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can never seem to stop talking.”

    No. I hadn’t noticed at all.

    I haven’t played touch rugby for around four years. The last time was back in Auckland, when I still had a life there.

    Today that changes. Stephen Brown has a team here, with a bunch of my old office mates. He gets home from work and insists I come and play.

    “Can I play in bare feet?” I ask. I don’t travel with much, especially not a pair of touch boots.

    “Probably not. Those shoes will fit you, bro,” he says, pointing to a pair of boots by the front door.

    “Whose are they?”

    “Dunno, just take em.”

    I laugh to myself as we head out the door in our flip flops and stubbies with a rugby ball between us. I feel like I’m back in primary school.

    When we get to the field it feels strangely familiar, like I’ve been here before. I see my old workmates – Seok, Phil, James, chatting away like it’s any old Thursday. It’s a flashback to five years ago. We could’ve been in Auckland.

    I don’t care much for the game. It’s fun, of course, and I run hard, but I’m not too bothered by whether we win or lose. I don’t know why. As competitive as I am, right now I’m just happy to throw the ball around. After so long, a game of touch just feels like a comfort from home, rather than something to get worked up about. Kind of like a mince and cheese pie in Asia – doesn’t need to be spectacular; you’re just happy it’s there and, as long it’s hot, it’ll get the job done.

    In the end, we win. Good times.

    Once we do all our post-game handshakes and hip hoorays, we head to the bar across the road for drinks. I’d forgotten how much of a luxury it was, to head to the bar on a weeknight. On the road, every night is a Saturday. As we sit there and sip away, I find myself paying more attention to the rest of the bar than the friends I’m sitting with. I see the guys in their suits, sinking the stress of the work day in the beers in front of them. They laugh tiredly at each others stories, probably about their douche bag boss or that mid-life crisis lady in the office they can’t stand. Funnily enough, I’m kinda jealous of them. I miss telling those stories.

    In fact, I’m a little jealous of everyone in here. They all have some normalcy in their life. They have a local bar and a close circle of friends to kick it with on a Thursday. When someone asks them what they do, it’s an easy, one-word answer. They know where they’ll be sleeping for the rest of the month. When they buy drinks, they don’t need to count their pennies.

    Maybe it would’ve been nice, to do the London thing.

    Friday night.

    I used to look forward to Friday night. In fact, it was probably the only thing I used to look forward to. Every day in the office, every morning ironing my shirt, every evening sitting in rush hour traffic; all I was doing was looking forward to Friday night. And not because of the booze or bar hopping that came with it, but just because, if only for just a moment, I had my freedom back. If you get drunk or play Playstation all night on a Tuesday, there are consequences. If you do it on a Friday, nobody cares. I used to live for Friday night.

    Stephen Brown and I jump on a bus and head out to tonight’s house party.

    “This house is full of Aussies bro. They’ll be having a bender tonight.”

    We head up to the top floor of the bus and take the front seats. I always wondered whether I’d end up riding the famous London double decker. The first thing I notice are the empty bourbon cans on the floor.

    “Do people come up here and get pissed a lot?” I ask him.

    “Yeah bro, even on the tube. On Waitangi Day there’s a massive pub crawl on the Circle line. All the Kiwis just getting smashed on the train. Funny as.”

    When we get to the house everyone’s already a little smiley. Not to mention it’s the most Australian house ever. Drugs, booze, dirty dishes. It’s all free flow. You’d be forgiven for thinking we were in a Colombian hostel.

    I knew the moment I entered this wasn’t my scene. It doesn’t seem like Stephen Brown’s either. Him and I sip beers, but there’s no powder on our noses. We’re good.

    After an hour, everyone heads to the local bar. They all head straight to the dance floor, bopping away. I stand in the corner, sober. Three girls sway to the music next to me and I say hello. Turns out, they’re from Paris. Maybe I should’ve guessed from the silly hat one of them was wearing. I tell them I’ve been in Montpellier for the last month, studying French, and try bust out some of my Français. I butcher it, of course, but it’s a great conversation starter. I’m taken back to France and suddenly, it feels like I’m on the road again. This is my comfort zone. Over the course of the night, a couple of cigarettes and some drinks, I feel like my French improves three-fold.

    Around 1am the bar closes and we migrate back to the house. As soon as I walk in, the lines of dust are already sprinkled on the table. It’s kindly offered to me, but I decline, politely. But as I watch them indulge, I remember. I remember that feeling, the need to rebel and blow off steam and let the demons out after a week of being whipped in the back. Five days of alarm clocks, office politics, lifelessly punching a keyboard while watching the world go by. It sucks so much soul out of you that when that weekend comes along, you make damn sure to take it for everything it’s got. And as I spectate, I feel it again, if only for a split second. But that split second is all I need to remind me why I walked away from it all.

    Sitting in Gatwick, I replay the five days over in my head and realise that, despite the short visit, I’ll remember London well. And it’s not Trafalgar Square, or the Eye, or Buckingham Palace that I’ll remember. Instead, I’ll remember it as a flashback; a brief step back into that life I left behind when I chose travel all those years ago. I got a glimpse of the old days here; the stressful mornings, early nights, collared shirts and long commutes. But also, and perhaps more importantly, I was reminded of the good things I had to leave behind. I don’t get to have a George to eat breakfast with each morning; a Rachel to kick it with at night; a house of friends to watch Geordie Shore with on Tuesday and a touch team to sink beers with on Thursday night. On the road, you don’t get that community of familiar faces and places to take comfort in and call “home”. Sure, you might make new friends on the road every day, but it can still be the loneliest place in the world. Everyone’s a friend, but everyone’s a stranger, too. Soon you realise, at the end of the day, there’s no one else. It’s really just you and your backpack out here, taking on the world.

    Five days. That’s all London is for me. Like in so many other cities, I’ve come, taken my photos, and I’m gone. I don’t have a London thing in my story. For me, it’s just another stop around the world.

    -Bren

    Sometimes travel isn't about travel at all. Five days in London brought back many blessings and demons. Here's my diary.
  • Travellers And Tourists Are All The Same, And Anyone Who Tells You Differently Is Just A Silly Gringo

    Travellers And Tourists Are All The Same, And Anyone Who Tells You Differently Is Just A Silly Gringo

    “Yeah, but those kinds of people aren’t travelling, they’re on holiday.”

    “Oh right,” I nodded, as I quietly took a sip of my beer, pretending to know what he was talking about.

    What the hell was the difference?

    For the rest of the night, the topic popped in and out of conversation, and eventually, I kinda got the gist of what he was talking about. It was my first year of travelling and, little did I know I would meet many, often smug and obnoxious characters, with this mindset throughout my next few years on the road.

    “Don’t go to Phuket! It’s just full of typical tourists on package holidays. It’s not the real Thailand. It’s a place for tourists, not travellers.”

    Spend one month on the backpacking circuit and you’re bound to meet someone like this; people who have, with apparent Robinson Crusoe-like fearlessness, slept in a beach hut or visited a city without a Sheraton, and thereby elevated themselves from just another silly tourist to a gritty, hardened and courageous “traveller” – someone who, through their immense nomadic struggle of taking one 40-hour bus ride, is now so brave and bulletproof that they no longer need the precious comforts of air-conditioning and pizza to survive life out on the unkind road.

    These self-proclaimed “travellers-not-tourists” are often obsessed with shunning the tourist centres for more “local” and “off the beaten path” travel experiences. And if there’s one thing they always pride themselves on, it’s having experienced “local” life – eating like a local, sleeping like a local, living like a local, taking shits like a local.

    But here’s the kicker: you will never know what it’s like to be a local, because you’re not a local, and you never will be a local. So, my suggestion? Stop trying to pretend you’re one, because you sound like an idiot.

    After I returned from the visit to my project in Ethiopia last year, my friends and family all commented on how “off the beaten track” and “authentic” the experience seemed.

    “It must have been so fascinating, to experience life in the village like that!”

    “Wow, you really got to see what the locals live like! That’s amazing!”

    And it was amazing. But I do not pretend to know what it is like to live their life. Sure, I slept in the village for a night. I met the community, ate their food, fetched their water, learned their customs. I observed, first-hand, a 48 hour snapshot of village life. But do you know what I did the next day? I got in a 4WD, drove to my 3-star hotel, had a Coke and a pizza, a hot shower, and went to sleep in a bed with clean white sheets and a fat pillow. I did not, and do not, live their life. I have no idea what it is like to wake up every single morning at 6am and carry a 20L jerry can of water on my back for 40 minutes. I don’t know what it’s like to eat injera and that pungent orange powder every night for dinner off the dirt floor of a mud hut. What I can do is attempt to appreciate their culture and their hardship. I can acknowledge the contrast their life has to mine. But, in reality, I have no idea what their life is like.

    To all those who claim to be “real travellers” because they have experienced “the local life”, please, stop. You may well have seen how locals live, seen what they do in their daily life, you may have even eaten some of their food and slept in their houses, but despite all that, you’re not a local. You’re a tourist. You’ll always be a tourist.

    “Why do these people even bother coming to Thailand? They spend their whole vacation in their air-conditioned resorts, eating cheeseburgers in the tourist restaurants. They might as well just stay home.”

    Typical words from a “traveller-not-tourist” that you will hear on many an occasion. For some reason, they hate resorts. They hate tourist restaurants. They hate people who go on holiday to do things they can do at home.

    The irony is, these oh-so-knowledgeable travellers will probably sleep in a hostel dorm, eat Thai noodles in small Thai restaurants, and drink beer with Thai people on the beach at night.

    Guess what, Indiana Jones? You can do all that at home too.

    And even if you couldn’t, what is so wrong with staying in an air-conditioned room and eating cheeseburgers? What is so “unauthentic” about it? Why is that not a “real” and “local” experience? Are you suggesting that all Thai people live without air-conditioning and never eat cheeseburgers? Walk into any Burger King in Bangkok, and I assure you it will be packed with Thais eating Whoppers. It will probably be air-conditioned, too. Perhaps these super-experienced know-it-all travellers need to pull their head out of you-know-where and start observing the “local life” they are so apparently informed about a little bit closer.

    The reality is, a traveller is a tourist. And a tourist is a traveller. You are nothing more than a visitor in a foreign land. Just because you slept in a hut and shit in a hole, does not make you any more ‘travelled’ than the guy who slept in the Radisson and shit in a flush toilet. I mean, you can sleep in a hut and shit in a hole at home. Why did you bother coming all the way out here to do that?

    It seems, people are searching so hard for something extreme, something extravagant, that they refuse to accept the “real” culture for what it actually is. Once you land in the country, there is no ‘real’ and ‘fake’. Everything you see is real. Yes, maybe it’s Americanised, maybe it’s changing, maybe it’s becoming frustratingly similar to what you see at home. But it’s real. Embrace it. Learn from it. This is the world, whether you like it or not.

    I’m not quite sure when travelling became a competition. Perhaps in the 13th century, when Columbus sailed West trying to find chicken tikka masala before anyone else. Or was it more recently, thanks to TV shows like An Idiot Abroad and The Amazing Race?

    Whenever it started, nothing paints the picture more perfectly than listening to two bickering 19-years olds in a hostel lounge trying to one-up one another while pretending to be best friends.

    “Oh, but do you know what it’s like to actually live like a Cambodian? I do, because I got invited into a Cambodian family’s house, and actually ate real home-cooked Cambodian food!”

    “Oh yeah, but did you actually help cook the Cambodian food? No? Oh that’s a shame, because I got invited to a Cambodian dinner too, but I actually helped cook the amok and I stayed the night there too!”

    “Oh yeah, I stayed the night too of course. And then in the morning I realised they had no toilet. I had to shit in a bucket!”

    “Oh I’ve had to crap in a bucket many times, it’s like, so normal to me now. Actually, when I was in Africa, I spent a whole week in a Maasai village and had to shit out in the cornfield!”

    And it goes on and on, this passive aggressive “I’m a better traveller than you” game, until they’ve made up as many stories as their imagination will allow.

    Sorry to crash the party kids, but here’s the inconvenient truth:

    Both of you are just a couple of silly gringos.

    Just like me.

    Just like the rest of us.

    We are all village idiots; outsiders, people who do not belong but have been welcomed in anyway. That is exactly what makes travel beautiful. We get to see a glimpse of different lives. We get to see new faces, experience new smells and flavours. We get to do, see and eat whatever and wherever we want, even if it is a cheeseburger in the resort café. Everything about travel is a personal experience – not a competition. People will explore the world and themselves in different ways. There is no wrong or right or better or worse. So instead of spending all your energy trying to be the most un-touristy traveller out there, how about just enjoying travel for what it is; a chance to escape the rut of daily life, learn about yourself, see the world, and have a good time.

    You silly tourist, you.

    Photo credit: garryknight@Flickr

  • What People Are Doing When They Travel To “Find Themselves”

    What People Are Doing When They Travel To “Find Themselves”

    You’ve seen it before, right?

    Someone you used to know, suddenly transformed after venturing around the world. All their old dreams vanished and they come home all worldly with their stories and new-found carefree attitudes. Kind of annoying, really.

    Life is different now, they say.

    They’ve changed.

    They’ve finally found themselves.

    Honestly, I hate that phrase. “Finding yourself” is so cliche and fluffy that it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. Films like Eat Pray Love and Walter Mitty have only glammed it up even more. But the truth is, travel does change things. The person that leaves is rarely the same as the one that returns.

    But why? What the hell happens out there?

    Here’s my take.

    Read more:

    Removing outside influences

    For most of us, our life is full of outside influences. We have parents telling us to work hard and find good jobs. We have teachers telling us to study hard and get good grades. We have bosses directing our careers. We have girlfriends (or boyfriends) swaying our decisions. We have social pressure from colleagues and friends to fit in and be normal. We have governments saying we need jobs to be responsible. We have television, billboards and advertising, telling us what is trendy and acceptable. We have society creating a mould and constantly pressuring us to fit into it.

    And every time we want something somewhat different to the pack we get ‘concerned’ friends looking at us funny saying, “Really?”

    With all these voices in our head, our decisions are so heavily influenced that it’s impossible to figure out what we truly want.

    Instead of “going travelling to find yourself”, a more appropriate phrase might be “going travelling to decide what you want from life because it’s the only place where people will shut the fuck up long enough for you to think”.

    Seeing the world changed a lot of my opinions and perspectives on life; almost complete U-turns in some cases, but in reality it wasn’t so much the travel that did it.

    It was the quiet.

    It was the solarity.

    One of the biggest fantasies you will hear from people in 9-5 jobs is that they want to just “retire on the beach and drink cocktails all day”. In fact, while sitting in my cubicle I can admit that I fantasised about the exact same thing probably every Monday (and Tuesday, and Wednesday, and Thursday…).

    And then, only a few years later, I found myself in South East Asia doing exactly that. Each morning I would wake up, eat breakfast, and then sit on the beach and drink cocktails all day.

    Was it fun?

    You bet.

    I had the best time of my life…for two days. Then I got bored.

    It only took 48 hours to realise that wasn’t my dream at all. It was just a fantasy that had been dreamed up out of hate for my old life; early morning commutes, wearing a tie, a shitty job and a 40-hour work week.

    During those years, I would wake up every morning and think, “If this is really going to be my life for the next 40 years, you can kill me now.”

    But as I sat on the beach with drink in hand, the prospect of that lifestyle didn’t impress me much either. I mean, honestly, ask yourself; do you really want to sit on the beach and drink every day for the rest of your life? Never learning anything new, never challenging yourself, never growing or achieving anything? Is that really what you want from life? Is that really what you want to spend your precious time on this earth doing?

    Sure, it still sounds better than a cubicle. But I’d be surprised if anyone would be happy spending 40 years drowning in alcohol on the beach.

    That wasn’t my dream. It was an “anywhere but here” fantasy, dreamed up out of my unhappiness and desperation. I soon realised, I need to be challenged. I need to be learning new things. Sitting on the beach drinking cocktails is fun, but sitting on the beach reading books would surely satisfy me more.

    But that’s not enough either. I like challenges and building things. I like writing and creating things. So perhaps, sitting on the beach reading books and building a business would be my dream.

    But even that’s not enough. I like to have friends. I like companionship. I want to be around my family. So perhaps, sitting on the beach reading books, building a business, near my family with a great girlfriend and great circle of friends would be my dream. Maybe? Who knows.

    But that’s a part of finding yourself. If I were still in my cubicle, with only 3 hours of free time a day and my friends, family, colleagues and girlfriend all telling me what I should do, I would still be fantasising about cocktails on the beach.

    “The best day of your life is the one on which you decide your life is your own. No apologies or excuses. No one to lean on, rely on, or blame. The gift is yours – it is an amazing journey – and you alone are responsible for the quality of it. This is the day your life really begins.”
    –Bob Moawad

    Realising your paradise does exist

    We all think our lives are normal. We all think that the way we live, the things we eat and the society that we have is the right version of life, and everything else is different.

    But every traveller eventually has that eureka moment; maybe while sitting on a beach or wandering through some small town. They see and experience something so different and so contrasting with their own life that it suddenly hits them: their life isn’t normal. Normal doesn’t exist.

    You think an alarm clock is normal? No, it’s not. Not everyone wakes up at 7am and does a 40 hour work week. Just the mere thought of doing that is a complete joke to many people.

    It goes for everything in life – shoes, monogamy, internet, religion, taxes, locking your doors, tampons, divorce – all these things we blindingly accept as normal are considered absolutely ridiculous somewhere else in the world.

    And then suddenly, it’s like, poof, you no longer need to live by the rules back home. There are many different places out there, with different rules, and if you look hard enough, you’ll find a place with rules you agree with.

    That life you hated so much back home, you don’t need to go back to it.

    Back there, the life you want to live is considered ‘stupid’ and ‘unrealistic’. You’re bombarded by naysayers and cynics, and people who feel threatened by your desire to venture out.

    But not on the road.

    Somewhere in the world, you’ll be able to find a place where the life you always dreamed of living; your beliefs and values and lifestyle, isn’t stupid. It’s normal. And by finding this place, you no longer feel like an outsider. You don’t need to feel like what you’re looking for is stupid and unrealistic. You’re finally able to accept who you are and what you want. In the process of discovering the world, you were able to rediscover yourself. And that’s a part of finding yourself.

    “If you end up with a boring miserable life because you listened to your mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest, or some guy on television telling you how to do your shit, then you deserve it.”
    -Frank Zappa

    Finding perspective

    You’ve probably heard the saying “it’s a small world.”

    Well, whoever came up with that is an idiot.

    It’s an enormous world, overflowing with amazing people and places that even with twenty lifetimes you would not come close to seeing it all.

    But it’s not until you really start exploring that you realise how big the world is. It’s only when you meet that one interesting person in that one faraway town in that obscure, impossible to find tea house, that you begin to wonder; how many more amazing people are waiting to be met? How many incredible stories are waiting to be told? How many more places are there to be found, all with their own myths and scandals and legends and stories?

    But more importantly, you realise that you cannot meet all these people, or see all these places. The world is too big. And in a world so big, you’re insignificant. You yourself are also just another one of these faraway people, waiting to be met. So even though back home you probably consider yourself the most important person in the universe, in reality, you’re nobody.

    There are 7 billion people on this planet. If you disappeared tomorrow without a trace, how many people do you think would actually care?

    100?

    200?

    500?

    That’s not even 1 percent of 1 percent of 1 percent.

    Perspective.

    You’re nothing more than a speck of sand on a shoreline that never ends.

    Is that cynical? No. It’s liberating.

    Because since you’re so insignificant, you are free. And because you are free, you can do whatever you want.

    Nobody cares.

    Perspective.

    One thing that’s very noticeable among well travelled people is how laid back they are. They don’t get hung up on stupid shit.

    Girls I used to eat lunch with at work would freak out when their plate had a tiny bit of dirt on the edge. They would berate the waiter with a tone that said “how dare you serve me a plate that isn’t sparkling clean!”

    However girls I eat lunch with on the road happily sit down in the dirtiest, smelliest street stalls and devour their meals with huge smiles on their faces.

    Why?

    Because the road humbles you. You learn how insignificant you are. And then you don’t care anymore. If someone is angry at us, we don’t care. If our order is late, we don’t care. No job? We don’t care. If the bus ride is 40 hours and there’s no air conditioning and we’re all sweating and someone vomits and the whole bus starts to smell like mouldy fish…we don’t care. Because after seeing how big the world is and all the crap that goes on it, we realise this stuff doesn’t really matter.

    Perspective.

    When we stop caring about dumb shit like this, we allow ourselves to properly care about the things that really do matter – friends, family, our loves and our passions. With our new found perspective, we learn how to choose our battles and focus on what matters. We rediscover what really is important to us, and that’s a part of finding yourself.

    “It took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself. But first I had to discover that I am an invisible man.”
    -Ralph Ellison

    Realising that it’s ok to do what you love

    We live in a wonderful world, where from the youngest of ages we are conditioned into being model citizens. Our lives are paved out for us before we even hit puberty.

    I didn’t really want to go to university. I didn’t want a 9-5 work day. I didn’t want to apply for a job after graduation. I did it because I thought I had to.

    You’ll probably do the same.

    But then, you travel. And you do the things you love. And you find new things to love. And you decide you don’t want to be a banking officer anymore – you want to ride horses, or scuba dive, or do yoga, or play the harp.

    And more importantly, you actually meet people who are spending their lives riding horses, and diving, and teaching yoga, and playing the harp.

    Those moments stick with you. It’s like, “Shit! Look at all these people living the exact life I never thought was possible!”

    And you no longer need an alarm clock to get you out of bed. You don’t need any more inspirational quotes on Facebook. You’ve finally realised that if you just take the tiny step outside the lines, it’s possible to spend your life just doing what you love and life is suddenly exciting again. That’s a part of finding yourself.

    “We can’t be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don’t have something better.”
     -C. Joybell C.

    Do you need to travel to find yourself? Probably not. But amongst all the noise of your daily life, it is hard to really give yourself the space to do so. 

    When we travel, we get lost.

    We have days where life has no meaning at all – we just lie in bed and stare at the slats in the bunk above us.

    And then we have days where life has all the meaning in the world, when we meet a special person who teaches us a lesson so powerful that our life changes completely.

    Time on the road is time to reflect, to think, see what is on the outside. It’s time away from the masses; time to be whoever you want to be. We see all the different flavours of the world, absorb it all, and decide which path draws us in the most. We get lost, and we search, and then we find ourselves.

    Whatever the hell that means.

  • Why You Need To Go To Bulgaria

    Why You Need To Go To Bulgaria

    I had zero expectations for Bulgaria. I’d never met a Bulgarian, I’d never met anyone who’d been to Bulgaria and I’d never read or seen anything about the place. Bulgaria travel blogs aren’t exactly flooding the net either. Not that I went looking for any. I was going into Bulgaria completely blank, and that was actually nice for a change.

    I did have high hopes, however. After a forgettable experience in Turkey, I needed a place to make me smile again, and while the bus ride over the border was of the I-want-to-punch-someone-in-the-face variety, somewhat of a fitting farewell gift from the Turkish, I still had hopes that Bulgaria would be different.

    It was!

    I freakin’ love Bulgaria. As I think back over my three weeks in the country, I struggle to remember any negative experiences at all. My only regret is that I couldn’t stay longer and explore.

    What’s so great about it? I’ll tell you.

    Read more:

    Bulgaria is cheap!

    One of the top reasons to visit Bulgaria – it’s affordable!

    It’s one of the cheapest countries I’ve ever been to, and since the country has abandoned its plan to adopt the euro it’s likely things will stay that way.

    Average salaries range around $300 per month and things in the country are priced accordingly. That means $2 for a cab ride, $3 for a restaurant meal and $5 for a movie ticket.

    My hostel in Plovdiv was beautiful; we had real beds instead of bunks, ultra-fast wifi, and a daily breakfast of salami, ham, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, cheese, fruit, toast, jam, muesli, tea and coffee (most hostels just give you bread and jam).

    All up it cost me around 45 euro for five nights.

    Gin and tonics at the bars rarely cost more than $3.

    Getting connected with a sim card with internet cost me around $5.

    I managed to get great Airbnbs, bang in the city centre in both Plovdiv and Sofia, for around $20-$30 a night.

    If you’re looking for an affordable place to travel in Europe, it doesn’t get much better than Bulgaria.

     

    Chicken and vegetables in #Plovdiv. My favourite. 5 bucks.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Bulgaria’s internet is lightning quick

    According to Bloomberg, Bulgaria has the 8th fastest internet in the world – faster than the US, and definitely faster than New Zealand.

    For someone who works online this certainly had me smiling every morning.

    If you’re travelling in Bulgaria and decide to take a lazy day of Youtubing, take comfort in knowing you won’t be punching your phone waiting for videos to load (in HD, too!).

    Bulgarians are awesome

    On my first night in Plovdiv I met up with a Couchsurfer and we headed out for some traditional Bulgarian food before hitting up Fabric – a grungy little bar in Plovdiv’s centre. A few of her friends were there and invited us to sit with them, and we spent the night sipping cheap black russians and chatting the night away. They all spoke great English, welcomed me enthusiastically to their country and were super laid-back and friendly – exactly my kind of people.

    As it turned out, this hospitality would continue for the remainder of my visit. Making friends was effortless in Plovdiv, and while I planned to only stay a couple of days I ended up staying in town for two weeks. During my stay I was invited out every single night – to a dinner, a jazz bar, a club, a party – everyone doing their best to ensure Plovdiv left a smile on my face (it did).

    On my final night in Plovdiv I decided to do it easy, so I headed to one of my favourite bars for one last drink, alone. Yet during the walk home I bumped into two friends who refused to let me head home early for the night. Until the final hour, I was in good company in Plovdiv.

    After Plovdiv I only had three short days in Sofia, the capital, but even there it was more of the same. Just friendly, awesome people, everywhere I went. I love Bulgaria.

    Bulgaria is a little off the grid

    Other than Sunny Beach and Varna on the east coast, not many people seem to visit Bulgaria.

    I probably wouldn’t have either, had I not been trying to run away from Turkey just next door.

    But as I’ve learned, places like this are always the most fun to explore – few hustlers, low prices, and a genuine look into the country without a sparkling tourist façade.

    The free walking tours in Sofia and Plovdiv only collected around 6-8 people per day (in bigger cities, you can get up to 30 or 40+) and even the free Sofia food tour, where we ate for free in some of Sofia’s hippest joints, only had about 12.

    The foreigners you do meet will generally be Erasmus students or people just passing through.

    If you’re looking for somewhere in Europe that isn’t crawling with tourists a la Paris and London, Bulgaria could be the perfect choice.

     

    If you’re ever in #sofia, jump on the pub crawl. They take you to some pretty rad off the grid places.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Bulgaria is safe

    Like all places Bulgaria has its shady areas but I wandered around alone during early mornings and late nights and never felt in danger once. Walking home alone past midnight in Plovdiv and Sofia felt safer than most big cities, especially as the streets were generally calm and well lit. Even around 2am I regularly saw girls walking home alone – usually a good sign that the streets are considered safe.

    Of course you should take your usual precautions and avoid the rough parts of town, but for the most part you can rest easy in Bulgaria.

    Everyone in Bulgaria speaks English!

    Well perhaps not everyone, and perhaps not perfectly, but most will speak enough to understand you and indulge in small conversation. I also met many Bulgarians who spoke near perfect English which was a quite a surprise to me, especially after coming from Turkey where English is almost non-existent. I had been prepared for a big language barrier on my arrival, so it was nice to find I was understood by almost everyone I came into contact with, whether it be in a hostel, a store, a restaurant or coffee shop.

    Of course, you should still make an effort to learn a little Bulgarian, too. Nazdrave!

    Bulgarian food is AWESOME

    While not known for their food, Bulgaria makes some pretty delicious stuff.

    You can start off your day with a few pieces of banitsa, a greasy, delicious, crispy baked pastry filled with something awesome (usually egg, onion or potato).

    Follow up with a few gallons of ayran – a traditional Bulgarian yoghurt drink (best yoghurt in the world!)

    Next you might want to indulge a few gulps of tarator, a cucumber, garlic and yoghurt soup.

    Then get serious and prime yourself with a classic shopska salad – Bulgaria’s trademark cucumber, tomato, onion, cheese and parsley mix, enjoy their very chunky oversized skewers of traditional barbecued meat, eat a few loaves of bread with spreads of Bulgarian lyutenitsa, a tomato and capsicum spread, indulge in a couple of famous Bulgarian kyufte, or stuffed meatballs, and of course, don’t forget a few rounds of rakia, their trademark drink to end the night.

    Need pics? Here you go.

     

    #Tarator – a Bulgarian yoghurt, cucumber and garlic soup. Farkin’ awesome.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

     

    On the free food tour in #sofia you’ll get to try #lyutenitsa – a tomato and capsicum dip/spread. Awesome stuff.   A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

     

    You ain’t tried #meatballs til you tried stuffed #Bulgarian #kyufte meatballs.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

     

    Drinking ayran in #Bulgaria. These cats make some of the best #yogurt in the world.   A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

     

    They take their #barbecuing seriously in #Bulgaria. This hearty #chicken skewer had me struggling.   A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

     

    A classic #Bulgarian #salad. Simple yet classy.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

     

    #rakia – A drink that may put you on your ass in #Bulgaria   A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    And for you foodies, here’s a more thorough guide on Bulgarian food to get you going.

    Bulgaria is developed

    It’s not Tokyo, but it’s not Phnom Penh, either.

    Most of your Western comforts will be available if you want them, from McDonalds to H&M to a nice steak dinner at a fancy pants restaurant.

    I was surprised that it only took me a couple of days before I found an actual juice bar; one that juices real vegetables with a real juicer (more than I can say for France).

    Bulgaria tends to have a reputation as rather poor and backward in this department, and it is not a rich country by any means, but I found it to be refreshingly modern, at least in the major cities. If I were forced to live here for a year, I’d have no problems at all.

     

    #Sunday afternoon in #Plovdiv. Miss this place.

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Bulgarians know how to party

    Damn, they go hard in Bulgaria.

    The drinks are cheap, they smoke like chimneys and the bars are widespread.

    Yet despite all that, the drinking culture doesn’t seem to be a bingey, ‘get f*cked up as fast as possible’ type gig; it’s more of a ‘enjoy your drinks and enjoy the night until the early morning’ type thing. I quite like it.

    Whatever your flavour, just know you’ll never be drinking alone in Bulgaria.

     

    Keepin it classy tonight in #Plovdiv

    A photo posted by Bren (@brenontheroad) on

    Bulgaria is beautiful

    Most importantly, Bulgaria is just a beautiful country.

    After being part of several empires, there is so much history here and you will notice this instantly in the architecture and layout of the cities. Plovdiv is considered the most ancient city in Europe, and the free walking tours in both Plovdiv and Sofia will open your eyes to how many layers of history are hidden here.

    There is a calm and laid-back energy in Bulgaria, one that makes it easy to visit and easy to like. The people are humble and polite, the streets are calm and it is easy to simply wander and enjoy the country for what it is.

    I had only planned on staying a few days before moving on, but ended up staying for almost three weeks and still wasn’t quite ready to leave.

    I’ll end this post with a massive thank you to all the Bulgarians who showed me love and made my visit something to share and remember. I only hope if you ever visit New Zealand, we manage to do the same for you.

    In the meantime, if you’re currently planning a Eurotrip and looking for recommendations, Bulgaria officially has the Bren on the Road stamp of approval.

    Enjoy!

    Heading to Bulgaria? A few tips:

    • For affordable accommodation in the cities, I highly recommend using Airbnb. You will find many good offers that will be cheaper and more comfortable than hotels and hostels. I found very nice places in both Plovdiv and Sofia for about $25 a night. You can get $25 of free Airbnb credit using this link.
    • Try and visit in the summer! Bulgaria’s cities are very walkable and safe if the weather permits. It also means you can head to the coast and visit the beaches too. While Bulgaria in the winter will still be beautiful it will be signficantly harder to travel through.
    • I highly recommend purchasing travel insurance for Bulgaria. Travel in Bulgaria is not dangerous, but it is not a widely travelled country so be sure you’re prepared for the unexpected. I use World Nomads. They offer affordable coverage with generous limits and it’s super simple – you can literally be covered within two minutes. I use them often.Have fun!

    Disclaimer: World Nomads provides travel insurance for travelers in over 100 countries. As an affiliate, we receive a fee when you get a quote from World Nomads using this link. We do not represent World Nomads. This is information only and not a recommendation to buy travel insurance.