Six Months On the Road - a Round the World (RTW) Trip Update
Month Six in Numbers
Month six I once again adjusted my travel style, picking up the pace some to make sure I could spend a couple of weeks in Jordan (this coming month) before I head home for the holidays. To try to make the faster pace less exhausting, I focused more on finding good bases and taking day trips - a style which I’ve enjoyed.
Cities This Month: 15; Total So Far: 79
Countries This Month: 5; Total So Far: 28
Countries I Ate Avocado Toast In This Month: 5; Total So Far: 24
Miles Walked This Month: 328.5; Total So Far: 2,130.2
A MONTH OF Loosening up and striking a balance
Like each of these summaries, I’m going to begin with my emotional journey and then talk about the trip itself.
Up until this month, I’ve thought of my emotional journey in chapters of Mara - of overcoming some kind of inner struggle to enlightenment. This month was different, though, because I didn’t feel confronted by inner demons (at least at first). More than anything, I felt a settling out - an inner balancing and finding of equanimity with the world around me.
I think this inner shift became clear to me when I traveled to Ohrid (North Macedonia). I had made a friend form Singapore on the bus ride there and we explored the city together; he was nice - and also full of anxiety, mind swarming, never at peace. Normally, that kind of energy enters me and I feel an urge to soothe the other person - but, for maybe the first time ever, I held compassion but didn’t internalize his pain or struggle at all. I just remained present, staring out at a sunset, and keeping space.
It wasn’t just this interaction when I was noticing the shift. Throughout the month, I could feel baggage shake free from me. I found myself strangely at peace around uneasy acquaintances (like my travel companion in Ohrid) or alarmists (which I can be myself). I was becoming unfazed by the opinions of others and feeling free from many of the petty resentments and angers I tend to hold. Even with the existential fears and angers that normally haunt me (climate change, the rise of authoritarianism, the risk of global war, how we treat animals), I found myself finding a place of radical acceptance - a peace that pain, destruction, and suffering are all part of life and I have an extremely limited scope of control for that. A true surrendering of control, I suppose.
Even now, as I’m writing this, I’m aware that the US midterms are this week and the results could be truly catastrophic for the future of American democracy - and my primary emotional response is something akin to “I may be about to witness the fall of America as I know it. I guess I’ll have to decide what to do next if that’s the case.”
My secondary response is something like “and who am I to know how this plays out in the next 1,000 years. Maybe the collapse of America into fascism is actually something that will benefit the world in the long arc.”
But with that shaking loose, of course, something else rose to the surface - an inner conflict that has always been a pain point for me. I often struggle in figuring out with what force to put myself out in the world - how much to go with the flow, to observe and let things to be, and how much to be a force for change. How much to set goals, how rigid to be in getting things done, how much to rest and do nothing, how much to abandon plans and take opportunities that arise. I sometimes think of it as an inner conflict between my Buddhist self (which often suggests being a soft, compassionate presence is the best thing you can do for the world) and my Christian self (where Jesus went through life holding power to account and trying to enact systemic change). Or, in a secular sense, the part of me addicted to life-hacks versus the new-age crunch granola side of me.
I’ve been seeing both extremes as I travel - people without plans who just take whatever opportunity comes and those that are so rigid they never do anything spontaneous. I’ve come to see both paths as near enemies of enlightenment. The “free range” travelers often seem disconnected from themselves - what drives joy for them and what values they want to live. They often seem to have a shallow, hedonistic life being driven by others. But the other side, the rigid ones, are normally missing the everyday beauty and opportunities around them - and are rarely present and savoring the moment. They often seem to have a harsh, deeply unkind relationship with themselves - a punitive stream of you must / you should personal critique.
I often swing between the extremes - and this month I began experimenting with new approaches. I’d book a flight in the future, but plan nothing about the path to get there. I’d draft an itinerary, but not book anything in it so I could change my mind as I went. I began trying to see if I could set a directionality for my life that included my values and sense of self - but one that was fluid enough that I could always adjust it.
I’ve not been good at it, yet, to be honest. I find once I set a plan, even a soft one, I can grow too attached to it - too rigid. And I’ve found if I don’t, I’m apt to miss something I actually want to experience (or say yes to an activity not really aligned with my values or joy). I’m coming to believe that the middle path for me will include broad goals and guidelines for life - but ones that aren’t overly rigid and without too strong an attachment that I will cling to them when they aren’t serving me.
That’s, of course, much easier said than done. But thankfully I have another 10 months of travel (and then the rest of my life) to figure out what that balance is for me - of moving with the energy of the universe while also pointing myself in the direction of the energies that work best for me.
I now have a loose (unbooked) itinerary for this month - and plan to head to Romania (Timisoara, Brasov, Bucharest), Bulgaria (Sofia, Plovdiv), Turkey (Istanbul), Jordan (Amman, Petra, Wadi Rum, Aqaba) and Israel (Eilat, Jerusalem and Tel Aviv). I’m excited to be closing out all the places on my must see list for the Europe region before heading home for Christmas - although I will be hitting Morocco and Egypt in January on my way to India.
A faster, more flexible travel style
I once again changed my travel style this month. One of my five must-sees for this trip is Petra in Jordan - and it occurred to me early in October that if I didn’t do it before I go home for Christmas, then it would be logistically challenging for me to add later in the trip. So, I decided to speed up my pace of travel for the rest of the Balkans to make space for Jordan.
I drafted a rough itinerary of what I’d want to see (and on what timeline) - and began moving at a quicker pace along that itinerary. Because nothing was booked, though, I was able to change plans easily. Several times, I extended or reduced the number of days I planned to be in a city. I also changed movement plans when I realized a city would make a good base for day trips - allowing me to keep my bags in one place while exploring a region more flexibly.
For the first couple of weeks, I was struggling to find the balance in this style of travel - sometimes pushing myself to move without enough rest, go too fast, or see too much. But I’ve begun to find a stride in it - having a rough timeline with some hard cutoffs - and essentially always having a constrained problem to solve (I have X +/- 2 days in this country and these goals - how can I make them work). I’ve found setting up a base camp is a really enjoyable way to explore a region - and have learned I tend to be more effective in planning if I’m doing it within some reasonable constraints.
This month, there was only one city that truly captured my heart:
Ohrid in North Macedonia is my perfect lake escape. The city itself is historic and has quite a few nice pieces of architecture to see - but that’s not really the reason to go. It’s the lake - which is massive and pristine; the water is so clean as to be completely transparent - but it still shines blue during the day. The entire lake is surrounded by mountains and cliffs - so no matter where you are there’s a picturesque backdrop to the water. I was delighted by every little beach nook I found.
As I moved more quickly through Montenegro, Albania, North Macedonia, Kosovo and Serbia, I found things to fall in love with in every city I spent time in. I have longer (linked) recaps of each, but I’ll give my biggest takeaways below. I put asterisks next to the ones I will likely find reason to return to, exclamation marks next to the ones I got my fill of but found thoroughly charming and worth the trip, and left the cities that were a bit less remarkable to me without anything.
Podgorica is sometimes called the least exciting capital in Europe - and I think that’s a fair assessment. It did offer the opportunity to walk through some Roman ruins completely alone, though - a first for me.
Kotor! offers a really nice balance of relaxed seaside nooks with beautiful bay views - alongside a cool, atmospheric walled old town. For me, it was also the perfect base to explore the coast of Montenegro.
Budva felt like a tiny Miami - with new, modern high rises popping up around its beautiful beaches - and the city flooded with restaurants and bars. It has a tiny, cute walled old town - but it’s not why people vacation there.
I think if it wasn’t so close to Kotor and Budva, I would’ve found Perast more memorable. It’s a charming village along the bay with Venetian architecture - and it’s so quiet that you can often have the sea to yourself. A lovely Montenegrin escape for the antisocial - but one that will likely pale compared to its neighbors for those happy to be around others.
My first impression of Tirana was stress. I went in expecting some level of European-style structure and I found something more akin to Southeast Asian carefreeness. But then Tirana grew on me - not necessarily as a tourist destination, but as someplace cool and livable. It has a nice blend of understood chaos and modern, chic neighborhoods - of old and new.
Berat! was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. A mountain town with traditional Balkan architecture, it has two mirror neighborhoods of historic houses built along the sides of a valley. The coolest part for me, though, is that its castle district is still lived in and full of businesses - making it less a ruin a more a living relic.
Sarande! was an amazing base to explore the Albanian Riviera. The city is large enough to be full of restaurants and bars - and offers easy, quick access to some of the best beaches, architectural sites, and island getaways in Albania. For the locals, it also provides a really balanced lifestyle along the beach.
Gjirokaster makes for a cool day trip in Albania. Known as the Stone City, the panoramic views of its slate grey stone roofs rising up its mountain, peaked by a stone fortress, are really terrific.
Prizren reminded me a bit of upstate New York - with its mountain scapes, back country roads, and autumn colors. The city is one of the few places to take in historical sites in Kosovo - but it also offers some really cool bar and restaurant districts that have clearly recently been developed.
Pristina! is not a pretty city - but it’s coming into its own quickly. Its high rise developments, chic open air restaurants and bars, and fast food shops all feel American. While I was there, it was hosting an annual European art festival where contemporary art installations were placed in abandoned buildings. It really felt like the perfect expression of Pristina - rebirth and creativity amidst decay.
Skopje! is kitschy and tacky - and I kind of loved it. The North Macedonian government spent a ton of money trying to make the downtown look more European. In parts, it worked - but in others, the slapshod design and construction leave is feeling more like an amusement park or Las Vegas. It can be a shame because under that gaudy, flimsy facade, Skopje is actually a pretty cool, vibrant city to explore.
I went to Nis to see the skull tower that had been left by the Ottomans to warn against rebellion. While the city itself is not very memorable, that one site will haunt me for a while.
Novi Sad! made me reflect on how modern borders are because the architecture and town layout are clearly Hungarian. Even culturally, it feels distinct from southern and central Serbia. It’s a beautiful city - best known for its annual music festival hosted in a giant fortress - and a good place to relax in atmospheric neighborhoods.
Belgrade* is not a pretty city (or honestly, a livable one) - but it’s vibrant, young, cool, creative, and full of hustle. I was really impressed with how entrepreneurial their younger generations are - and how much energy was on display when it came to putting things out into the world.
To be honest, I’m really excited to start exploring outside of Europe. It’s been amazing to see so much in the last six months - but I can really sense that I’m becoming hardened to the delight of some of the sights. I’ve seen so many old towns and churches now that they start to blur together and no longer feel as special as an experience. I think not experiencing commensurate gratitude for an experience is a sign a break or a shift is needed, so I think moving onto new things couldn’t be better timed right now.
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LIFE ON the ROAD continues to be A LEARNING PROCESS
My style of travel and way of being continue to grow and evolve on the road. Just when I think I’ve gotten something down - a routine that works - I end up growing out of it. I’m learning to embrace that instability - letting go of my need for control or clear routine. There’s a lot of freedom in just being present for the experience. Typically, I keep notes of lessons I’m learning or things I’m thinking throughout the month. Because this month I just let loose and enjoyed the trip, though, I didn’t - so I don’t have notes for this section. I suppose this month was more about taking the journey less seriously and just going along with the experience.
I’ve been reflecting on the power of asking “What set of conditions would it take for me to do x?” instead of thinking “I would never.” In part, it’s a function of seeing so many different cultures - regularly being reminded that different sets of norms result in different behaviors. But I think more than that, it’s a consquence of my strengthening sentiment that I’m not exceptional - that I’m just a human. When someone does something that gets under my skin, I’ve begun wondering what it would’ve taken for me to be doing that. I think, in some ways, it is making me kinder - or at minimum not seeing people in two-dimensional good / bad tropes. Weirdly, in other ways, it may be making me a bit more cold in my assessments of humanity. I suspect it’s hardening my general stance that adults are unlikely to change - that what you see is what you get. And, on occasion, I find myself needing to add something to my calculation that is concerning - like a lack of empathy, or a streak of masochism - to imagine myself doing something. I have a sometimes great, sometimes naive tendency to see only the best in people - and this practice is actually helping me to take in a more balanced, full picture consistently. The result, counterintuitively, is that I often find myself thinking that humans are far more dangerous and easily manipulated than I’d ever liked to believe. I suspect this is a notion that will have to settle within me over the next few months.
In the last few years, with the rise of a global authoritarian right, I’ve found myself struggling with lots of anger for the rampant dehumanization of minority populations. In my work with anger, I often think of it as a signal that some important need is being violated. But, extreme anger, or rage - I usually think of it as our body’s way of preparing ourselves to eliminate a threat - often maladaptively. It may sound really macabre - but I’ve recently found myself couching my societal / big picture thinking in some form of “well, given that genocide is off the table, what the best way to get these populations to work together.” I’ve found it greatly eases my rage - just telling myself that what I suspect deep down my body is screaming is just a non-option. For much of human history, genocide and destroying entire populations, removing people seen as not worth the resources, or stealing people that provided some kind of value, were common practices. It makes sense that my body would have some kind of evolutionary circuitry at this point that signals a bright red “eliminate that threat.” I’ve found it helpful to call this deep rage more directly what it is - a call for violence - and tell it no. Once I began admitting to myself what was really going on in my circuitry, it quieted immensely - and my anger is much softer now.
In a similar way, I’ve found I can quickly soothe many of my discomforts by reminding myself of the ways I’m actually choosing them. For example, someone was sitting next to me on the bus to Belgrade and he put his bag beside him instead of between his feet. This meant he was taking up extra room - moving well into my seat and leaving me with less space. I was growing pretty irritated with it - until eventually I said to myself “I’m choosing this discomfort over the discomfort of asking him to move.” It didn’t change the basic situation that this man was taking resources from me - forcing a choice of discomforts - but it reminded me that I was choosing which discomfort from there to go through. I found my discomfort immediately ebbed.
At some point this month, I was reading an article about how the updates to the newest iPhone are minimal - insubstantial value add. I found myself thinking that many of life’s modern inventions are like that. Uber removed the inconvenience of hailing a taxi - but did it make my life more meaningful? GrubHub now allows me to order from two restaurants with one delivery fee - but is that helping meet my core needs? It seems like we’ve become addicted to the task of eliminating minor inconveniences, subtle discomforts - as if that is life’s great challenges. I think, in some ways, that’s left me worse off - as much of life’s lessons come at the edges of discomfort. It’s also left me less resilient in knowing how to handle minor inconveniences - let alone gross infractions. It’s settled me into an expectation that life shouldn’t have much discomfort - and to become attached to this notion. I think that attachment is at the a root of a lot of modern angst - that we are in some way entitled to a life without discomfort - an expectation that will always fail.
As a part of that addiction to eliminating discomfort - I’ve been reflecting on the consequences of removing the suffering of others from our sights (which is something that is often in the back of my mind). In poorer areas, the struggles of others are often on full display; we’re forced to look at homelessness, addiction, starvation, mental illness . . . But in richer areas, people pay to never have to see these problems - to keep themselves segregated. I think there is a real power to simple exposure - a consistent reinforcement of the hardships of the world and a reminder that we need to be kind. I think it’s good for people to know the hardships in our community - because there is a natural human inclination to help if we see it.
Among the ways we try to eliminate discomfort, we often look to complex solutions to optimize everything - to reduce time spent, to move quicker, to have a clear set of rules. In this part of the world, many of the solutions are simple and slow - like the buses just move along a long road between places on a vague schedule and can be hailed down or gotten off of anywhere along the way. Every route may take me twice as long - but there’s a real joy in the simplicity of it - the calm of everyone getting on and off where it’s convenient to them - and to the sense that we don’t need to be rushing. In the US, it often seems like it’s a moral imperative to to more quicker - and I often find myself at best peace (and doing the things that actually matter) when I force myself to do less slower. There’s a real joy in simple solutions to root needs that aren’t rushed.
In a similar vein, I’ve been thinking about the raw selfishness of hoarding resources and taking more than we need. It’s deeply human to hold on to what we have and to try to protect it - but the consequence is always that some resources are being created for no reason, and being withheld from someone who might need it. I don’t have some grand insight into it - but I often find myself thinking some iteration of it like “humans could solve starvation - we just choose not to.” I find it fascinating that we hoard to protect our illusion of safety and security - and it stops us from solving easily solved issues like hunger, homelessness, or living with curable diseases. There’s something deep in the human psyche that doesn’t want to solve these societal woes - even though we can. I find it really fascinating.
I haven’t done a workout in over two months now. At first, it was because I was traveling with my Dutch friend and we were just always on the go. But then, I just didn’t want to - and then it was because I wanted to see how I am without constant exercise. In the US, I think it’s fair to say that I have an addiction to exercise - I use it to keep myself fairly stable and to move through challenging emotions. But without it, I become irritated. In the last two months, I’ve moved through that level of irritation and grumpiness - and kind of detoxed myself from constant exercise. Without the flood of good chemicals, I think it’s helped me to settle into this new found peace and equanimity. At the same time, though, I don’t love how my body feels - a bit flabby, a bit unfit, not flexible enough. I’m glad to be detoxing myself from the good chemicals of exercise - but now I think I have the task of finding a more moderate, body health focused way of integrating exercise back into my life.
As I’ve been finding this place of equanimity with the outside world, I’ve been noticing a hollowing out of my relationship to many hedonistic pleasures - of drinking, eating too much, of distracting myself, of exercising too much, of casual sex. It certainly doesn’t mean I don’t do them - because those habit energies are really strong. But, each time I do, I find myself painfully aware that they aren’t meaningful experiences. I’m hoping this will be a powerful step on my path to moderate consumption.
In my life up to this point, I always struggled in fully accepting Buddhism because I found large parts of it apathetic, cold, or indifferent. But now that I’m finding greater peace and equanimity in my life, I’m finding that streak is naturally settling into me. I’m no longer trying to see the best in everything and everyone - and I’m developing a calm ability to think “ah, yes, that is pretty terrible” without having a nervous system reaction or itch to fix it. And, to be honest, occasionally I’ll say things to my hostel mates that kind of horrify them - a level of calm that seems indifferent. I can also see them being confused, because they know a lot about my behavior and the ways I try to reduce the harm I create - and they struggle to reconcile it.
On their faces and in their reactions, I can see the entire struggle I’ve always had with Buddhism - how can good come from such an emotionless stance. And I’ve finally come to understand better it’s because nonreactivity and emotionless are entirely distinct. I’m becoming less reactive to the horrors of the world - but I still feel them; I still cry at least once a day and make space for the world’s suffering. But I’m no longer drawn into it - so it leaves me with immense space to stay calm and just try to think through a problem. It also leaves me with space to remember that, even if I have good intentions, I don’t know what the long-arc consequence of anything I can do will be.
After all, do you think Jesus intended for his teachings to be used 2,500 years later to be used as a defense for suppressing minority rights or dehumanizing refugees? We never know what will come of what we think is kindness; all we can do is try to live aligned to our values in any given moment and have faith.
I’m again under budget
If you’re wondering how much this is costing me - so far, for six months in Europe, I’ve spent $12,667. I wrote about my budget here and this spend is essentially spot-on with that budget. I’m $50 below target now; I would be further under but I pre-purchased my visas (and some other entrance fees) for the next few months. I am expecting Jordan and Israel to stretch my budget some, though, and I would not be surprised to find myself slightly over budget heading into December.
My fixed cost budget pool ($10 a day for things like big flights, SIM cards, insurance, and supplies) is slightly over right now from the visa expenses - but is offset by how far below budget I am on daily spend. I do wish I had a larger buffer for flights, though, because I’m flying a lot more in the next few months.
I had been expecting Europe to be the hardest part of my trip to stay on budget - and I’m really excited that I was able to stay on target for this part of my trip. Now, my period from January to April is my next tough period - because I have some expensive countries (like New Zealand and Japan) and it’s a lot more flight intensive to start. I expect to find myself going well over budget in those months and then having to reign it back in through Southeast Asia - but I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to work it out.
MY PACKING LIST IS ALSO HOLDING UP . . . ISH
At the beginning of this trip, I published my packing list and wrote about why I included everything; in my month one summary, I gave a pretty detailed breakdown about what I missed, what seems like it was unnecessary, and what has been surprisingly helpful. I continue to track what I use every day so I know what has been used most and what hasn’t been used at all. The trends I noticed after month one have hardly changed - though I’ve begun layering more now that the temperature is starting to drop.
What has changed, though, is my appetite to maintain my lifestyle at home (fashion, beauty standards, exercise). I’ve really become accustomed to road life and mostly want to become more nimble - be carrying a lot less, and all in a small backpack. When I am home in December, I’m doing a complete repack and challenging myself to extreme minimalism - a small backpack that easily fits in an overhead. I’m actually really excited. Keep an eye out for a Packing 2.0 post.
KNOW ANYONE ELSE WHO WOULD LIKE THIS?
I’m going to try to write up one of these summaries every month - though I’ll definitely keep working on my format as I go (so please give me feedback if there’re things you want to hear more or less about). If you think anyone else would enjoy these summaries, have them sign up for the mailing list with the submission box below.