Chapter 6
Finding Your Travel Rhythm
By the time you’ve been traveling for a couple months, you will most likely have found your stride. Like starting a new job, there is a point with travel when you grasp the basics and start to unlock the more nuanced elements that divide the professionals from the amateurs. Planning routes, finding accommodations, coordinating transport, getting your clothes washed, budgeting, and all the other mechanics of travel will feel like second nature. Your focus will start to shift more to the things that matter to you. This point, after the distractions of adjusting to travel life and before the end of the trip begins to loom, is the real sweet spot.
At this stage of our trip, we cared most about meeting people, eating and drinking amazing things, and finding local places unlike anything we could find at home. We are still stunned by how many amazing places we discovered, people we met, and memories we made in just a year. Although we loved our entire trip, there are particular moments that make us yearn to do it again. At the midpoint of our trip, we were focused on the present and pursuing the things we loved; it is hard to imagine anything better.
In this chapter, we share the techniques we learned to help us settle into our travel rhythm and focus on what mattered. We also share stories that bring to life how simple, intuitive, and happy life on the road can be and the unassuming moments that end up becoming some of the most beloved memories. This part of the trip is the joyful side of magic; it’s the time to enjoy!
And a Side of Sour Cream
Bucharest, Romania
DAVID
44.4268° N, 26.1025° E
Shaggy-hair, shabby clothes, svelte bodies and glowing—Alexandra and I had left India. Despite how much it pains me to say it, we looked a bit like the stereotypical young white couple who had found a new level of inner peace during their travels in India. We may not have found it in an ashram, and our thin bodies were more the result of excessive walking and food poisoning than vinyasa flows, but nuances aside, we fit the bill.
Whatever glow people back in the States would have perceived from us was lost on Romanians. Walking off the plane, I immediately felt a strong desire to toughen up, eat meat, and work out. I also realized I had never really mastered the art of not smiling, and Romania was a perfect place to practice. Although I technically had the physical advantage, with many men looking up at me, this was not the primary takeaway from our interactions. Hoping to learn a thing or two from Alexandra, who has Romanian roots and had been there before, I took some time to observe her. This was a terrible idea. Turns out that when Alexandra is not smiling, she looks like a little girl.
Although we were warmly greeted everywhere we went, Romanians would win in a global stare down—not by length of stare (India wins there), but rather by seriousness. Often from just a glance at another person, I would find myself asking soul-searching questions. Do I have what it takes to win in a fight? Am I in touch with life and death? Does my smiling make me less of a man? These were not questions I was accustomed to asking myself.
Our hosts in Romania were some of the most generous and upstanding people I have ever met. I immediately felt a great connection with them and looked forward to getting to know Marian, a non-blood uncle of Alexandra’s who picked us up at the airport. He had a grand presence about him and spoke with great confidence and conviction. He took us to his beautiful home, and his wife, Adriana, greeted us warmly and made us feel immediately welcomed as honored guests despite our ragged image.
Within hours we were sitting on the patio of a stunning restaurant perfectly preserved from times long past. This restaurant was selected because we had requested local food for our first meal in Romania, and I could tell by Marian’s eyes we were in for a treat. I had heard of a few classic dishes through an old Romanian friend in high school as well as from Alexandra’s family, such as mămăligă (cornmeal porridge), mititei (fresh sausage), and sarmale (stuffed cabbage), but had yet to try any of them. I was exploding with joy and anticipation. It is a rare and incredible opportunity to eat an almost entirely new cuisine. The first dish to hit our table began a two-week food extravaganza. One meat-and-dairy-forward dish after the next was paired beautifully with local wine, beer, or hard alcohol. It was comfort-food heaven. Every dish had round and generous flavors that gave a nod to what I might look like if I ate them for every meal. The seasoning made you feel nurtured and loved, as if the grandmother we all longed for growing up had prepared everything by hand. Cream was an acceptable topping for what seemed like every dish and was often presented in a sort of gravy bowl. Genius. Then there was the unfiltered beer. Maybe it was because I had grown accustomed to the very light and sweet beers in Asia, but Romanian unfiltered beer wowed me with its balanced flavors and creamy mouthfeel. The advertising tagline for Ursus, one of the larger brands in the country, even read “Probably the Best in the World,” which at the time I felt to be both reasonable and accurate. We were also quite taken by the local wine, which reminded us of Bordeaux and paired well with the richness of the food. Finally, there was the ţuică, or pálinka, a potent liquor made from plums, peaches, or pears. Often homemade, its warming quality reminded you that you were alive, and within minutes of drinking it, all your worries seemed to melt away. It was glorious. The fact that ţuică was often paired with small cubes of cured fat just took it to the next level for me.
The next morning, Marian generously tasked his assistant, Simona, with getting us some new clothes and haircuts. A quick look in the mirror removed any potential offense from the offer. After months on the road, we clearly needed the help. Alexandra and I did a quick Google search for men’s haircuts and showed some options to Simona. She evaluated them, and in her charming accent, declared, “This one is sexy for you, and this one is sexy for the others.” Turning to Alexandra, she asked, “Which would you like?” Romanians seem to have a talent for being direct. “Sexy for the others!” Alexandra said, an uncharacteristic but appropriate choice. By the end of the day, I gave it my best to make significant advancements toward embracing “sexy for the others”: slicked-back hair, tight jeans, blue pleather jacket, and tan perforated leather shoes. Perhaps it was the fact I felt I needed to calm down my loud jacket or just the feeling in the air, but although I was having a splendid time, I did not smile in several photos that day. It was a first.
We spent the following two weeks traveling through the beautiful country of Romania, a country with a feeling all to itself. The rich and unique culture, striking architecture, amazing food, and generous people were all things we would have totally missed had we based all our decisions on the destinations that guidebooks and blogs directed us toward. Because of this experience, we evaluated future travel destinations in a new light. Countries like Georgia and Armenia floated to the top, whereas they might never have hit our radar before. In a country like Romania, it’s also so much easier to escape the touristy stuff and fall into realness, where you’re embraced as an individual rather than as part of a generic mass. If it had not been for Alexandra, Romania would not have been a country on my list, and I am so thankful for the experience.
SETTING YOUR pACE
It may take a little time to shake out, but when you get to the point when you know your travel-self better and what you are looking for, you’ll really start to settle into your trip. Although there are no hard and fast rules, these guidelines are meant to help you get into the swing of things quicker.
1/ The Travel Day Cushion
Traveling from one place to another can be exhausting. Beyond just arriving in a new place, travel days involve packing and unpacking, transport to and from the bus, plane, train, or boat that will be taking you where you want to go, lots of negotiations, and often new languages or dialects as well as different currencies. It is exciting, but also requires lots of energy. What we found was that, more often than not, on travel days themselves we were so excited about getting to our next destination that we typically had enough energy to go out and ex
plore on the first evening, but would feel pretty tired the next day. Take note of these trends and plan for them. We planned to do very little the day after we arrived in a new place, but we did plan to hit the town the night of. Knowing this gave us the liberty to chill out and get our bearings that second day without feeling badly about it. Find your own rhythm and embrace it; don’t fight it.
2/ The Five-Day Recovery Rule
It’s easy to get burned out when traveling. You might not have a lot of time in every destination, yet you can feel as if there are endless things to experience in each place you go. But if you don’t structure your time well, you might end up too tired to really experience where you are. After a couple of times running ourselves into the ground, we created the “five-day recovery rule.” Although seemingly obvious, this rule was invaluable. If we wanted to spend just two or three days in a place, we would go all out while there, then plan to have at least five days to recover at our next destination. For example, while in Ireland, we had a few jammed-packed days in Dublin and Galway followed by five days on the tranquil Aran Islands before traveling more. We had lots of energy for cities when we wanted to take advantage of them, while kicking back with a book in a pub or on a remote hillside felt glorious too. By following this intuitive rule, we were able to experience more and not worry about getting run-down.
3/ When Less Is More
As we progressed in our trip, we stopped seeing as many places and started seeing more of fewer places. We cut down our already trimmed list and saw less within each destination. That said, our time in those places got richer and richer. It took us a little while to get over the fear of missing out on things, but the benefit of getting to know a place far outweighed our worries about not seeing enough. We learned to ignore impassioned statements like, “If you didn’t see (enter amazing site here), then you were not really there. How did you not go?” We found that if we loved a place, we would stay. If we were not in love, we would leave.
4/ The Domino Effect
Following our passions never steered us wrong. When stating this so simply, we feel a bit obvious, but pursuing our interests unlocked not only a route we loved but also facilitated so many of our favorite moments throughout the trip. Our passions were like a compass, pointing us in the right directions and steering us down winding trails of happy discovery with joyful moments knocking into one another like dominos. Our taste buds often set the dominos in motion, with one good meal leading to many more, or a seemingly simple cup of coffee opening the door to a whole world of local favorites. Not surprisingly, the places we gravitated toward were often filled with other people like ourselves who shared interests similar to ours. Over a cup of coffee or an afternoon drink, we would find opportunities to chat up a friendly face at the neighboring table or barstool, and when we expressed genuine interest in trying their favorite restaurants, visiting their favorite areas, locals would happily open up and share their beloved haunts. These conversations became the perfect launching point for stumbling upon other things we loved: fantastic hidden gems of restaurants, cool homegrown shops gloriously free of the clutter marketed to tourists, hip and up-and-coming neighborhoods frequently not talked about in the main guidebooks, and good live-music scenes. Every time we followed the dominos, so to speak, we felt the delicious thrill of serendipitous discovery, the joy of stumbling upon one great spot after another.
TRAVELING WITH DIETARY RESTRICTIONS
Alexandra
One of the most glorious parts of our trip was all the different foods we enjoyed. We savored the variety of flavors we encountered across the globe. Eating the local cuisine really helps you get to know a place better and experience it all the more deeply, but if you have a dietary restriction or food allergy, being able to fully enjoy your meals can be a bit of a challenge, particularly in countries where English isn’t widely spoken or understood.
I have celiac disease, and a lot of people asked me how it was to travel with such a challenging food condition. Surprisingly, navigating gluten-free options in the rest of the world proved to be far easier than it was in the U.S. as a whole, and I only got sick a handful of times. What’s more, countries we assumed would be super difficult for me, like Italy and Ireland, proved to be some of the most gluten-free-friendly places I have ever been to.
Communicating an allergy or dietary restriction can certainly be a challenge, but there are a few tricks to help with this. You can look up and memorize the words or phrases for your allergy or food preferences with the help of an online translator, but better than that, you can ask a kind stranger who speaks English to write an explanatory note for you in the native language of the place you’re visiting. I did this throughout Southeast Asia and in Japan, and whenever we would go to a restaurant, I would politely show our server or cook the note. This worked without fail each and every time.
It’s important to remember to be as respectful as possible when explaining your dietary restriction or food allergy, though, particularly in countries like Japan and France, where a lot of pride is taken in the cuisine. Be humble, appreciative, and understanding, and you will likely receive the same treatment in return.
August Holiday
Lyon, France
ALEXANDRA
45.7640° N, 4.8357° E
August. It felt as though all of France had gone on holiday, probably because most people had. Cities had emptied. Streets had grown quiet. Shops and restaurants had put up signs reading fermé pour les vacances (closed for vacation), shuttering their windows and locking their doors for anywhere from two to four weeks. Parking was plentiful. Tourists continued to descend upon Paris, and a selection of restaurants catering to this crowd remained open, along with museums and other sightseeing destinations. The locals, in the meanwhile, had flocked to the seaside, quiet mountain villages, and temperate islands for their annual holiday pilgrimage. It was a beautiful ritual to behold.
David and I arrived in Lyon mere days before the August holiday season officially commenced. Having spent the last week touring the wine regions of the Loire Valley, we felt compelled to dive deeper and explore Burgundy. We had found a charming flat to rent in La Croix-Rousse, a hilly neighborhood with an artistic spirit unique from the rest of the city. The neighborhood’s architecture harkens back to Lyon’s heritage in the silk industry, with most of the buildings featuring large vaulted ceilings with exposed wooden rafters. Our flat showcased these signature ceilings along with tall windows that allowed golden summer light to pour into the rooms. The woman who owned the flat seemed to share interests similar to ours. We were thrilled to find a turntable and an excellent collection of records. The kitchen was small but highly functional. We had rented the flat for ten days in order to have lots of time to explore the surrounding wine region.
We woke up on our first morning ready to find a café, a rental car, and a list of the must-visit wineries. After all, this was France, and Burgundy was right up the road. How could we not go? We began to walk the neighborhood in search of a good café, but most were already closed. We finally found a place with the unpromising name La Zebra and décor straight out of an ’80s music video. The coffee was fine. We began to research wineries and rental cars, which was when all the roadblocks began to appear. First, the rental-car rates were astronomical due to everyone wanting to snatch them up for their own vacations. Second, the chances of wineries even being open were looking slim. Like the businesses in town, the wineries also closed for a few weeks during August—a fact we had overlooked. Sitting in the subpar café, we felt we would either get the dregs of Lyon or the dregs of the wineries. What had we done? We spent the afternoon sulking and feeling trapped. We didn’t want to go to the seaside with everyone else, but we didn’t want to feel like we were wasting our precious time.
One of the only restaurants still open in the neighborhood was a new café named L’Oenothèque de Lyon. Since they had just opened a few weeks prior to the August holiday season, the brother owners had to remain open in order to
offset some of the costs of launching the business. We thought we would cook at home most nights, but after our disappointing day, we wanted a night out. We strolled to the café and investigated the menu. It was small and simple. There were a handful of starters, beef tartare, and steak frites. Two desserts rounded things out along with a gorgeous wine selection. We settled in at one of the patio tables and ordered sautéed shrimp, the tartare, and steak frites. While David can eat raw meat every day, I’m a bit more selective, but this tartar was the most memorable either of us had ever had. The meat was minced to perfection, soft and supple, and it was mixed with mustard and briny bits of pickles. During the meal, we met a friendly woman who was comfortably eating by herself. It turned out she was the girlfriend of one of the owners. As we talked, the colors of our situation began to change. We realized we had been talking about how much we had been craving some downtime, time to do nothing but write, read, play music, and enjoy. We had resisted this desire because of the temptations of all the amazingness everywhere we went, but perhaps the August holiday was the perfect excuse to do what we really wanted to do.
A Year Off Page 9