World travel, for me, means setting up camp in one country until I can make enough cash to move on to the next. Trying to find a reason to justify that method, maybe a reason slightly more romantic than admitting I can’t afford it any other way, I started thinking about what differentiates the experiences of poor travelers from those of the rich, and why it is that people choose to travel to exotic countries in the first place.
Traveling to an exotic country means going where you don’t speak the language: you’ve practiced donde esta el baño one hundred times, but your heart still pounds out of your chest to ask. The climate is like none you’ve ever known: your coffee gets cold in two minutes and you’re wearing flip flops in the rain. Everyone looks at you funny: you’ve started dressing according to custom, even dyed your hair, and somehow you still can’t hide.
Just a sample of the torture inevitably linked to exotic travel explains that your desire to experience it can’t be for vacation. Not the relaxing sort anyway, unless you are planning to remain within the confines of the resort, where the locals serve all the comforts of home, not to exclude your whole wheat bagel and latte, oversized towels in your private bathroom, plush linens, and a fresh copy of the New York Times. So tell me again, why was it that you chose to travel to the Mexico Hyatt instead of the Manhattan Hyatt?
Before I make you feel too guilty, or you begin to write me off as overly pretentious, let me assure you that I’m not innocent either. I never have and never will turn down an invitation to a fancy hotel in any country, just for the sake of traveling the right way. I may be stubborn, but I’m not stupid. But just humor me for a bit.
To be continued...
1 comment:
My heart doesn't pound when I say donde esta el bano, but it does if the response is something really long and I have no clue what they said. Then I have to admit I'm a fraud and I really don't know Spanish. ;)
Post a Comment