The Problem

After two years of living in Boulder, it’s easy (albeit somewhat embarrassing) to see how much I’ve imbibed in the Republic’s Kool-Aid.

Within a month of being in Colorado, I realized that I have nowhere near enough gear. Upon arrival, I immediately bought a road bike. I’ve been a proud owner of not one, but two Epic Vail ski passes. Furthermore, without proper camping gear, my social life would be nonexistent. I added a tent, a sleeping bag and a sleeping pad to my quiver of supplies.

I readily extol the virtues of Subarus, Birkenstocks, Australian Shepherds, kale and legalized marijuana to anyone who will listen.

Fueled by the plethora of Boulder-based startups and PhD candidates meandering about on Pearl St., I’ve also adopted a restless spirit of entrepreneurial distress. More than once I’ve woken up in a cold sweat, heart beating hard, wondering why I haven’t launched my own company yet, written a book or attained a degree in optical engineering.

Do you want to know my deep, dark secret? I feel a nagging pressure to be outstandingly amazing. It’s difficult to shake the feeling that there’s always something better — something more intelligent, more philanthropic — that I should be working towards. Along with the camping supplies, the Subaru and the bike, my dear Boulder has made me so friggin’ anxious about an unwittingly wasted potential.

The Result

So in true Boulderite fashion, I recently quit my gym and joined a yoga studio.

I had taken yoga before to get in shape — little else worked my arms and legs so hard. And being more flexible is beneficial for running, hiking, biking, etc . . . But after two months of taking yoga classes almost every day, something odd happened: I felt a shift. I didn’t just understand what my yoga teachers were saying during asanas, I embodied it. For example, chanting “om” at the beginning of class is no longer an embarrassing cliche that I try to avoid, but a grand, unifying gesture that severs the outside material world from the inner one — the world on my mat and the world inside me.

Practicing yoga helps me realize something higher that I have always known was there, but never had the avenue to access. I’m not talking about God. I’m talking about a deeper way of communicating with myself and with the natural world. (Oh my, if that sentence wasn’t forged by the mind of a hippie . . .)

Now I can’t get enough of yoga.

Next week, I plan to hone my new-found yogic zeal by attending the Wanderlust Festival, taking place at Copper Mountain. I’ll relax, I’ll meditate, I’ll hike, I’ll dance to music, and obviously I’ll take lots of yoga classes with names like “Groundation: You Have Arrived,” “Chakras In Action,” and curiously, “Slackline Yoga.”

There, I’ll report on what I see, what I eat, what I feel, what I hear and what I learn, even if my only revelation is that I’ll never be able to do yoga on a slackline, let alone stand on one. Check back soon for my reports.

[Photo by Lulu Lemon/Flickr]

By Jenna Blumenfeld

About the Author

Jenna Blumenfeld, (Jenna Ogden Blumenfeld when she’s in really big trouble) hails from the wee state of Connecticut. Although her childhood dream of becoming a bug doctor — with a specialization in ladybugs — has gone unfulfilled, she is content writing about travel, cuisine and culture. A vegetarian, she currently resides in the food hub of Boulder, Colorado. Read more of her food-centric writing at NewHope360.com.

The post I’m Pretty Sure Colorado Is Turning Me Into A Hippie appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

I can’t swim. Actually let me clarify: I am a shitty swimmer. I can perform a sort of freestyle that resembles a dying fish. And I do consider myself a doggie paddling connoisseur.

Nonetheless, for my next vacation I decided to go to a surf camp in the Dominican Republic.

“Are you crazy?” my friends asked, fearful that I might kill myself with my utter lack of aquatic skills.

“You’re not seriously going to learn how to surf are you?”

“Well no, of course not,” I would retort. “That would be an exercise in suicide.”

No, I was going to surf camp to get some much-needed sun, drink fruity umbrella-festooned libations and perhaps get a little writing done. I have long been a proponent of solo vacays. The thrill of the adventure and the excitement of not knowing what’s going to happen next had metamorphosed into a sort of crack-cocaine addiction for me.

Will I be carousing with Germans as I climb Masada at 3 a.m. or befriending firefighters over drinks in Costa Rica? How exactly will I get from point “A” to “B” when there are unexpectedly no buses running and I have no currency? The adrenalin rush of figuring things out and making friends on my own was completely lost when I traveled with friends. It’s like riding a bike solo as opposed to tandem. Or better yet, skydiving.

However, I was facing a serious conundrum: My backpacking-through-Europe-on-a-shoestring-days were long dead, and the last thing I wanted to do was stay in a hostel. I didn’t want to spend my time hanging out with drunk pot-smoking 20-somethings who were just out to get laid, and I didn’t want to come back to a hostel dorm to find two people having sex in the bed next to me or find a couple getting it on in a dark corner of the lobby.

And unlike my backpacking days, I actually had something I didn’t have then: some money (as well as a better appreciation for cleanliness). I had traveled solo extensively for business, but that was different. I spent most of the day in meetings and spent nights chattering with whomever happened to be at the hotel bar, all on the company dime.

While regular hotels are great for groups of people, it is hardly suitable for the solo traveler looking to make friends. I needed an alternative. After being inspired by that movie The Holiday — when Cameron Diaz does a home exchange and meets a sexy and eligible Brit played by Jude Law — I too did a home exchange. Unfortunately, not only did I not meet Jude Law, I spent most of my time by myself. After all, how many people are you going to meet staying in someone else’s apartment?

So where does an adult solo traveler go for instant camaraderie? For deep conversations with strangers about the pros and cons of Keynesian economic theory? Or the subliminal meaning of Beyonce’s latest video?

It was by accident that I stumbled onto a surf camp. Upon pouring through copious guidebooks, asking Facebook friends for their advice and scouring Trip Advisor, I came upon a cute surf camp in the Dominican Republic named Swell Surf Camp. The camp was owned by two British expats, and offered a pool, free breakfast cooked to your specifications, a billiards table, board games, a TV and assorted DVDs and best of all, a communal dinner that ensured that without doubt I would make friends. And at $70 a night it hardly seemed like the kind of place one would find college-age kids seeking drunken vomit-inducing revelry and meat market hookups. It seemed perfect for a solo globetrotter such as myself. I booked my stay immediately.

Laptop in hand, I arrived at the camp around 11 a.m. It was relatively quiet as everyone had just come back from an early morning surf lesson and thus had passed out for a mid-morning nap.

“So,” Marisa the camp manager started explaining, “Surf lessons are everyday at 630 a.m. We–”

“Oh I don’t surf.”

She looked at me as though I just said I had three feet. For the record, I do not.

“So what do you plan on doing while you’re here?” she asked.

“I just came here to write and drink a few cocktails. I figured this was as good a place to do that. But I do other stuff!” I pointed out lest she thought I was just totally nonathletic. “I also ride bikes and do yoga.”

“In that case, there is a yoga class that meets down the street, although they haven’t really gotten their schedule together yet.”

She showed me to my room upstairs that overlooked the pool. With two double beds, a closet and spotless bathroom, it was a vast room for what it cost. I couldn’t help but wonder why I hadn’t thought of this before. It was total genius.

But would there be anyone interesting to talk to or would I be stuck hanging out with couples gazing googly-eyed, college kids on drunk/makeout patrol, or even worse, socially-stunted types who had no choice but to travel alone?

After a brief nap, I headed downstairs to the communal kitchen. Marisa was playing a spirited game of poker with a 40-something gentleman sporting glasses and a shiny bald head.

“Rachel”, Marisa said, “Meet Nate.”

My experience with men of a certain age flying solo in warm locales is they are looking for one thing: prostitute punany.

Surprisingly, Nate was not that guy. A self-made man, he had retired early and came down to surf camp solo several times a year to kite surf. Razor sharp, Nate was like a walking encyclopedia of everything that had ever happened in the known universe since the beginning of time.

The rest of the guests were equally as interesting, intelligent, and mature. There was Adam, who had just spent time in Haiti doing non-profit work; Jacob, a banker visiting with his shy girlfriend; David, who had decided to treat himself to a vacation post-divorce; and Linda and Mark, fellow New Yorkers who were taking a much-needed vacation before their pending nuptials in a year.

It was just what I was looking for: mature, intelligent, sociable adults of all stripes and nationalities. Over the next few days, we ate dinners together, went through copious amounts of beer and wine, played pool and went through many rounds of poker. In between, we would take dips in the pool or lay out. I was quite pleased with myself for discovering this new secret of solo travel and made it my mission to visit surf camps in other countries as well.

There was one other person staying at the camp: Brad. Brad was the 22-year-old tall blond surf instructor at the camp. He was on a post-college jaunt around the world, with the Dominican Republic just being one of his many stops. He was intelligent, funny and very cute. He also drank too much, had $10 to his name and spoke in that special dialect only reserved for those who are either surfers or are under the age of 25. Nonetheless, he seemingly fit in with everyone else despite his younger age.

So, after a night of drinking when Brad flipped on the TV and invited me to sit next to him, I didn’t hesitate. Slightly tipsy, I sauntered over to Brad.

“What’cha watching?” I asked.

“Mad Men“, he said as he patted the bean bag next to him and took another toke off his joint, “Watch it with me.”

I poured myself a glass of wine from the kitchen and plopped down next to him. He left so little space for me that my leg was now grazing his.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but giggle. Was he seriously hitting on me? I couldn’t remember the last time a guy actually used that as a line. I think I might have been 22. I looked at him through my tipsy gaze. He is really so cute, I thought to myself.

I’m not sure what was said next, but in a matter of minutes we were furiously making out. Omigod, I thought to myself, Am I really making out with Brad in the middle of the den floor? What on earth am I doing? The security guard was making his rounds and I anxiously tried to avoid him catching us. Brad was sliding his hand up my skirt when all of a sudden we heard a splash.

I turned around. It was Nate. He was casually relaxing in the pool reading a book as if nothing was going on, yet he was fully facing us. I wasn’t sure if he saw anything, but regardless I wanted to melt into the floor from utter embarrassment. I hid my head in Brad’s chest.

My skirt was hiked up, my hair was a mess, I was drunk, Brad reeked of weed and I was this close to having sex on the floor with a 22-year-old surfer. So much for trying to escape drunken collegiate types. A wave of shame engulfed me. I had become exactly what I was trying to escape. But then I remembered one thing: Unlike in my younger years, I actually had a room. A private room.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I whispered.

“OK,” Brad replied.

And with that, we scampered upstairs.

By Rachel Khona

About the Author

Hailing from a magical land called New Jersey, Rachel is a writer and performer living somewhere in the 5th dimension. In addition to serving as contributing editor for Vaga, she has written for Cosmopolitan, Inked, and Ask Men and been featured as an expert on How About We and the Broadminded show.

She has performed at the Word Bookstore, Inner Monologues, Standard Issues, and Speakeasy Stories. She is currently working on a memoir about being raised by a conservative Indian family, swindling European cab drivers and scaling glaciers. Find out more about Rachel at RachelKhona.com or follow her on Twitter at @RachelKhona.

The post My Unplanned Romantic Adventure At A Surf Camp In The Dominican Republic appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

All right ladies, you’ve been waiting for your friend to come through on his promise to take vacation days. Your sister said she’d go with you to Ecuador as soon as she can save enough money. Your best friend from college constantly talks about your upcoming Southeast Asian adventure. And yet none of them will bite the bullet and put their money where their mouth is.

Too many of us spend our lives waiting to live. If you’re at all like me, at some point you’ll become too tired of waiting and you’ll decide to start living on your own. In June of 2009, I bought my first airplane ticket for a solo journey. My destination: the cheapest flight out of Newark to the farthest land possible. The cost: $300. A month later, my two feet hit Panamanian soil running.

Here are my top ten tips for when, not if, you get the courage to travel on your own. This advice will help you navigate one of the most rewarding and liberating experiences you could imagine.

1) Know Your Country

Respect the local laws of the land. This rule is easy to do, but you’d be surprised at how many travelers botch it. Any guidebook will tell you about the local customs, dress code, tipping rules, etc . . . Do research before you depart so you are comfortable, safe and respectful once you’re on foreign soil. After all, you don’t want to be turned away from that temple that you flew 5,000 miles to see because you threw on a tank top that morning and forget your shawl, do you?

2) Must-Pack Items

There are a few items that I always carry with me while traveling solo. Some are for social purposes, while others are for serious situations.

Lighter

You never know when a new pal will need a light. I’m not saying smoking cigarettes is the healthy way to go, but it’s always nice when someone leans in to light your cigarette and starts up a conversation. You also never know when you’ll need to start a fire or light up your path on your way back to your beach cabana through the jungle.

Head Lamp

Laugh all you want, but many parts of the world you’ll travel in won’t have lighted paths. Or you may find yourself sitting in a circle in the woods with new pals. Headlamps are key, coveted and very light and easy to pack. They are also clearly way more effective than a lighter.

Tampons

You can buy them in most countries, but you’ll never know when the girl next to you on the bus will be in need of one. It’s an instant way to help a sister out when she’s in a pinch on that 12-hour overnight bus from Lijiang to Kunming.

Whistle

Pure safety here ladies. Put it on your keychain and carry it with you at all times. I carry mine wherever I go. Luckily, I’ve never had to use it for emergency situations, but it can act as an impromptu instrument in random jam sessions as well.

Earplugs

Have a bunkmate who snores? Kid behind you on the train? Losing your hearing from the rumblings of the airplane jet? Earplugs have been my saviors on nearly every trip I’ve taken.

Eye Mask

Traveling can get you all disoriented when going across time zones. You never know when you will want to conk out for a bit or when your hostel mates will stumble in late at night and forget to turn your dorm light off. No need to get angry, you are sleeping like a baby thanks to your earplugs and eye mask!

Watch

Make sure you bring one with an alarm. Small, portable and a lifesaver when you’ve got to get up at 5 a.m. to catch that bus.

3) Keep in Touch

The first order of business whenever I land in a foreign country is to buy a used cell phone and pre-charged SIM card. This can be kind of difficult if you don’t speak the language, but the art of pantomime can go a long way. Ask the local hostel owner where you can go to buy a used phone and if they can write down how to ask for it. Or, better yet, go with someone from the hostel who will come with you and help. The most I’ve ever spent for a used phone and card was USD$25. I’ve bought phones in China, Thailand and Panama the first day upon arrival and they have come in handy many times.

First, the phone allows my Mom to know that she can contact me whenever. For that reason only, having the cell is key. Peace of mind for Mom is priceless.

Second, the phone allows you to make a ton of local calls, which is really important when you are on the road consulting your guidebook and dead-set on a certain hostel at your next destination.

Third, it allows you to get the numbers of other fellow travelers while you are roaming and exploring. I once got the number of a girl in Panama City, fell deathly ill in a northern province, texted her to see if her path had taken her nearby and found out that she was just a few blocks away. This one simple connection allowed me to reach out to a friend in a desperate time when I had the worst food poisoning on the planet. The medical clinic had no potable water or toilet paper. She was there within 10 minutes with socks, Gatorade and, you guessed it, toilet paper. I also had a hand to hold as I thought I was dying.

Fourth, the phone will allow you to call your health insurance provider if you need to be evacuated.

4) Limit the Drinks

Hopefully, at this point in your life, you know your limits. Feel free to throw back a drink or two, but always keep your eye on your beverage. Traveling alone is not a good time to get completely wasted. Unless you’ve made some serious friends over your journey that you know you can count on, I simply don’t recommend it. It’s best to have your wits about you. Save your boozing nights for when you are back home with your friends who you know will always have your back.

5) Hone Your Horny Guy Detection Skills

Lots of guys on the road are lonely. And they are still dudes. Some are absolutely great and you can count on to be friends, and then some simply want more from you in your brief moment of passing. Hone your skills in identifying these guys and try to avoid them. It just isn’t worth it.

6) Pick Up Pals on Your Route

The glory of traveling alone is that you are never really alone unless you want to be. There is the proverbial “Gringo Trail” that most backpackers follow. Check into a hostel, sit in the common area for a few hours and you’ll hear where people have been and where they are going next. Most likely, the next day a similar conversation will ensue.

I’ve found that making friends while out and exploring is easy: lean in with that lighter, ask to borrow a guidebook or use the generic “Where are you from?” line and the conversations will start flowing. When you meet people you click with, journey with them to the next destination. I once met two Scottish guys who ventured to the supermarket with me. After we shared a dinner, we decided to jump to the next destination together. One dinner then turned into two weeks. Whether lifelong friends or just a pal to hit the town with for the night out, reaching out to others is key to exploring.

7) Lock it Up

When you travel, you tend to bring some pretty pricey equipment with you, from laptops to cameras and everything in between. What is priceless, however, is the information stored on these devices.

First, photocopy your passport and scan it into a computer before you leave. E-mail the scan to yourself so that you can access it from the road and leave your passport in your big pack for most of your travels. Bring out a photocopy when you head to the bars  — most countries won’t care it’s not an original.

Second, pick up two small combination locks before you leave on your trip. Designate one to use for your small valuables, such as your passport and camera. Most hostels provide small day lockers that you can easily throw these into when you are sleeping or lounging around.

The other lock is to be used for your actual backpack and your fancy new PacSafe Security Web. Throw out the key and lock it comes with and use a combo instead so you don’t have to carry a set of keys around and worry about losing them. Whenever you head out of the dorm, just throw the web over your bag and secure it to your bunk. Knowing your stuff is safe allows you to go out and explore carefree!

8) The Art of Journaling

Speaking of worrying, ladies, we tend to worry way too much. You know its true! Whether it’s money, that boy you left back home, where your life is going or if you left your hair straightener plugged in while jetting off to the airport, we worry about the big and the small. Worrying is a learned behavior and unproductive, causing undue stress on the brain and the body. I’ve had many girlfriends tell me that they couldn’t stop worrying about things at home while they were lounging on the beach in St. Croix sipping a Corona. It’s a common problem and isn’t something to be ashamed of, however, it is something that you should tackle head-on.

Bring a journal and let it flow. Document your inner journey as you travel solo. Let your thoughts about things back home pour out from pen tip to paper. Journaling your thoughts can allow you to identify what is stressing you out and what you can do about it. And then you can leave it on the paper so it isn’t fritzing out your brain.

Another benefit of journaling is recording your outer journey. This means what you see, hear, taste, smell and touch on your daily excursions. I don’t suggest writing it down like prose, but I do suggest keeping notes about tiny observations. What thoughts did you have while watching old people work out on China’s outdoor public gymnasiums? What was the exact location of that delicious bibimbap stall at Seoul’s GwangJin Market? Impress your pals who may be venturing to Seoul down the road by referencing your handy journal. (Curious on the answer? It’s Eastern A Stall #37 — thanks journal!)

9) Unplug

Removing yourself from the world of technology is an absolutely amazing feeling. No more notifications, beeps, bloops or whistles. No more glowing halo of a computer screen. Simply, it is a life without false interruption.

Notify your contacts at home where you’ll be venturing, with whom and your anticipated return date, and then head somewhere with no cell service and no Internet cafes. If you can’t, put yourself on a technology diet and leave your laptop behind and turn your local cell phone off. If you do this for at least three days you’ll get over the compulsive need to check your e-mail that all too many of us have and will allow you to envelop yourself in silence. Before you know it, you’ll be awakened by the sound of howler monkeys in Panama or a rooster in Lijiang, China. Who needs an alarm when you’ve got nature?

10) Know Yourself

We all have our limits: embrace yours. Traveling solo is a good time to push yourself to discover new things, but if something doesn’t feel right, don’t do it. Female intuition is a very powerful thing and it’s important to go with your gut. Does a taxi driver seem sketchy: Don’t get in. Are you really uncomfortable with the thought of a zipline and are just tagging along because you don’t want to be alone at the hostel: Don’t go. Pick up a book or your journal, walk to a local café and go and find an alternative.

Traveling is all about exploring and learning new things, but don’t do anything that just doesn’t sit right with you. It’s important to know yourself. You’ll be surprised at what you do and don’t do on your solo adventure,  and when you return, you’ll have an even deeper knowledge of who you are, what you stand for and what path you want to take next.

By Sandy Kreis

[Feature photo by Sandy Kreis; Girl in Egypt by Coleman Yoakum/Flickr]

About the Author

Sandy is a classy broad with a dash of hippie. She spent life in many cubicles before finding the courage to strap on her backpack and travel solo. Now, she writes about these epic journeys and life in general as a 20-something nobody. Sandy is not afraid to try new things (like eating ant larvae in Laos), has an undying love for the written word (seriously!), possesses a strong immune system (a survivor of cholera) and loves collecting people along her way (now that’s a genuine statement).

Follow her on twitter @sanditak or check out her travel photos and writing at www.SandyKreis.com.

The post Top 10 Tips For A Solo Female Traveler appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

One of the things I am the most aware when I travel is my presence as a woman and what that means. In particular, I remember the constant phrases from the men in Buenos Aires. It was weird because by the end of my sojourn in Argentina’s capital, I barely noticed.

“At least we are not in Mexico,” my friend from Durango, Mexico told me. “There, they will grab you and not even apologize.”

My entire life, I felt like I should be appreciated beyond the superficial and that I could do anything on my own. But, as I got older and realized I wasn’t a superhero, I understood that I couldn’t do everything on my own (that’s why we have family, friends, and yes, partners). Then, when I began my life as a traveler, I started listening to what other cultures had to say, especially about women. The ones that stick out the most were the interesting conversations with some Argentines. They were confused about why some women in North America were so offended by “advances.”

“But a woman is so beautiful, she is a goddess! Why would you not want to tell her that everyday?” they would ask.

It made me think. A lot. Especially about cultural gender types and travel and adaptability. Then, reading this recent World Hum article called “The Sexual Lives of Sri Lankans” helped solidify a thought: perception.

The article described how Sri Lankan men were shocked because the author of the article (a white woman) yelled in retaliation against their propositions. Then it was, at a guesthouse, she learned one of the reasons behind “men’s unabashed sexual aggression towards white girls” was that some of these women went to the guesthouse for sex.

For some reason, reading this made me think about walking the streets in Phnom Penh and seeing the cafés crammed with older business men and young Cambodian women. I remember being repulsed. But, I eventually realized that these men were probably just lonely (not that I condone nor condemn any actions). Perhaps it is because some will quickly judge sexuality, that some people travel far and wide in order to find a little bit of affection (or what we perceive as affection). And it’s not just some men, the article suggests that some women are feeling the need for the same thing.

But when the author, Hannah Tennant-Moore, describes her conversation with one young Sri Lankan girl, I noticed a shift in the tone:

“Doesn’t your boyfriend try to do more with you?” I asked.

“Oh, no!” She tossed her shiny black braid over one shoulder. “He says, ‘When we marry, you are mine. Until we marry, I protect you.’” I tightened my jaw against a sense of vicarious suffocation. But then Sarasi flashed me an excited smile, her eyes widened mischievously. I couldn’t help grinning back.

“Well then,” I said, “I hope he will be a good husband.”

She smiled and understood.

A few months ago, when I returned home, my personal borders had shifted a little and I let some guys whistle their thing. But, most importantly, I also discovered where my personal boundary stops (at the physical touch). I will absolutely not tolerate a stranger grabbing my arm or putting his arm around me and I will (absolutely) bat the arm away and yell “no me toques!” But, I am happy to say that my perceptions have been expanded.

The post Gender, Sex And Travel appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

I never read Elizabeth Gilbert’s “Eat, Pray, Love.” I don’t plan on reading it, either. I have nothing against the premise or the author, I simply have not gotten around to holding a copy in my hands nor have I felt the urge to. As a traveling female. I sometimes feel like I am missing out on countless chit-chats about EPL and its impact on travel for women. I hear a lot about emotional journeys and ups and downs and lovers and reconciliations. I feel the same way, but usually I like to think about the adventures I had just endured. Sometimes I will try to squeeze into the circle with passages written by Bruce Chatwin or Paul Theroux, because they are the travel writers I know and love, only to get confounded looks. In general, not all the time.

I do not doubt that there are other females who relate to the adventure side of travel and I can say with absolution that there are men who travel for emotional development. Still, I wonder if our purpose to travel is biologically wired? This was the topic of an article on World Hum and it got me, and others, seriously thinking about the duality between the sexes. In the article, Rolf Potts writes his version of EPL, “One Man’s Odyssey.” He creates a synopsis of what EPL would look like if written from a male’s perspective and what he came up with is immediately offensive to anyone who shares a hair of the feminist notion.

It’s ghastly and chauvinistic, it’s perverted and irresponsible, it’s what some women have decided to do to the men in their lives. In fact, we have glorified this self-sexploration by turning the bestseller into a blockbuster, starring one of Hollywood’s highest paid actresses.  I don’t see this as necessarily a bad thing, but as a marker for where the general population’s (of not just females) thoughts are. I guess we feel so oppressed and down-trodden from our past that we decide to do exactly what we would hate to have done to ourselves. Hell hath no fury.

As a woman, I guess I am allowed to say that I am slightly embarrassed (if I was a guy, I would not have that right, right?). But not about the book, but rather the demonstrative idolization of it — from women and men. To be the typical female traveler, am I supposed to sympathize with this purpose? I understand it, I support anyone needing to find happiness in any way that he or she thinks best, but I certainly don’t relate to it, nor do I feel inspired by it.

To me, I think that one’s motivations for travel are quite personal: they are subjective and not gender-specific. Personally, I can imagine that Gilbert’s aim was not to motivate people to be reactionary, but rather to examine whether one’s life is truly happy. No one needs to follow her exact footsteps through India or Bali to go mentally where she went. We can do that wherever we decide to go: Mexico City, Alaska, or at home in our own chairs. Perhaps she was given the right opportunity or felt like she needed to be abroad — to be overwhelmed with external stimuli — in order to internalize her thoughts.

A guy can do the same thing. They do do the same thing. I would argue that men are not shunned from doing the same things. Actually, I know a lot of men who did the same thing and no one is judging them. Actually, a lot of men have been doing the same thing for years and they still have friends and many families. Maybe they don’t talk about or express their experiences of travel the same way women do.

Perhaps the difference is about timing — demographically and biologically. For men, in general, time is on their side. They can have babies well into their 70’s, if they so desire, and have been able to do this for years, some might even say millenia. But I think it can be difficult for women, in general, because they know that the clock could tick any moment. Once it does, they can’t necessarily go scaling mountains or eating spicy bacon. For the generations of the recent past, that clock ticked, they dived, and then easy travel and the internet came along which opened their world to exploring a deeper sense of happiness. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, I guess the newer generations will have the chance to explore these things way before the notion of a family comes up.

Or. perhaps there really is no difference at all.

Yes, men, in general, might travel for the adventure. Yes, women, in general, might travel to experience some emotional elevation. And, yes, vice versa (or emotional adventure) will happen. In the end, it shouldn’t matter to anyone else except the person traveling and those affected by the tourism industry.

By Brit Weaver

About the Author

Toronto born and based, Brit is an avid leisure cyclist, coffee drinker and under-a-tree park-ist. She often finds herself meandering foreign cities looking for street eats to nibble, trees to climb, a patch of grass to sit on, or a small bookstore to sift through. You can find her musing life on her personal blog, TheBubblesAreDead.wordpress.com.

The post Is Travel Actually Gender Specific? My Problem With “Eat, Pray, Love” appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

As a first time solo female traveler, you may feel fear. Sometimes, it’s as though the world we live in can be a bubble, trying to tell us of the things we shouldn’t be doing instead of encouraging us to get out there and experience it for ourselves. We are bombarded with “be carefuls” and “watch outs” instead of “keep your heads up and minds open.”

It was a relief to read this recent article at BootsnAll about a solo female traveler debunking those myths on her own. For six months, she traveled around foreign places — not hindered by being travel buddy-less — recommending that people use common sense and instinct as opposed to sticking to manuals. Her adventures remind me of Paul Theroux– although male — who is a self-proclaimed solo traveler. He wants the opportunity to explore things on his own for an opportunity to reach into a much-needed space of solitude and reflection — also, not wanting to bring his wife and kids into the potential dangers of where the wandering mind and soles can go.

Still, traveling alone may not be for everyone, no matter your gender. Some people like to share the experiences with others, even though others prefer the adventure that a solo sojourn can bring. It’s interesting how personal the stories differ when sharing them with others or doing them on your own. For some solo travelers, you keep the experiences for yourself, like little pieces of a personal garden you have grown.

By Brit Weaver

About the Author

Toronto born and based, Brit is an avid leisure cyclist, coffee drinker and under-a-tree park-ist. She often finds herself meandering foreign cities looking for street eats to nibble, trees to climb, a patch of grass to sit on, or a small bookstore to sift through. You can find her musing life on her personal blog, TheBubblesAreDead.wordpress.com.

The post Ladies, Do Not Be Afraid To Travel Alone appeared first on The Expeditioner Travel Site.

This week World Hum catches up with Amanda Pressner, one of the “Lost Girls” — their book, just came out in May — who shares her thoughts on leaving boyfriends for the opportunity to travel the world, getting along with travel companions on the road , and landing a major book deal.

As luck would have it, a few agents and one editor at a major publishing house stumbled across our blog while we were on the road, and wrote to ask if we’d ever consider turning the story of our adventures in to a book. Heck yeah! . . . Once we’d completed the proposal, we found an agent whom we really trusted at Writer’s House. After circulating the proposal to about 20 publishing house imprints and fielding serious interest from about six, he eventually sold our book to HarperCollins.

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Ciao there, from Susan Van Allen, Author of 100 Places In Italy Every Woman Should Go. Thanks for writing about this topic. It’s true what you say — that traveling is empowering to both men and women — in Italy as well as destinations worldwide. With many great reviews coming in for “100 Places In Italy Every Woman Should Go,” the only gripe is the title — as men are enjoying it too. I don’t want Italy to be labeled as gender specific, I simply felt that this phenomenon of women being so attracted to this country should be explored — and what a joy it has been!

The intent of the post was really just to call into question whether certain travel destinations in it of themselves are more enjoyable to certain classifications of travelers — women, seniors, Icelanders, those suffering from short-term memory loss (although this category of people may be advised to visit Disneyworld).

From Susan’s outlook, it sounds like her book’s title was not so much an attempt to dissuade certain travelers from her suggestions, but rather as a savvy marketing move (I suppose it does catch the eye a little better than “100 Places In Italy Every Man, Woman and Child Should Go”). As Susan says, it sounds like she’s gotten a good response from both men and women alike. As far as the albino Taiwanese segment of travelers — no word yet. Stay tuned.

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