Category: Travel Humour

From the moment we contacted with Lindsay on Twitter, we understood each other perfectly. Maybe its that ne’er-do-well spirit we share; we, too, like to hit the bars for beers and watch the sun rise. We didn’t want to miss our chance to ask her a couple of questions and find out more about her, her trip around the world and her blog.

Who is Lindsay Hogg and what is The Traveller?

Painting, photography, technology and travel seem to be my calls in life, with an expertise in the art of drinking, specifically beer and wine.

I can’t seem to keep myself out of trouble and my clumsy experiences have become heightened since I started traveling. Friends have encouraged me to write a book on the situations I get myself into. I could publish a whole chapter or two just on falling down and I’m not over exaggerating.

Instead, I decided to create The Traveller World Guide. It isn’t your typical travel site. From how to make friends traveling to tips on dealing with douchebags it has an aray of colourful articles. Although The Traveller is quite humourus and entertaining, it still contains a variety of informative and researched travel tips, guides and world news.

The main writers on The Traveller are myself and Mike Argyle aka Margyle. Mike now heads ‘in the news’ where he shares his amusing take on the latest world and travel news and rambles about some other topics as well.

Where have you been so far and which experiences you’ve liked the most?

I have been all over south America, Australia, Asia and New Zealand. I enjoy variety in my travels, I like to ‘mix it up’. From Tokyo, one of my favorite cities on earth to outdoor adventures along the coast of New Zealand to the cultural experiences found in Peru or Laos.

Being on the road, you must have shared really good stories on the blog, which ones would you recommend?

In my ‘On the Road’ column you can read an array of stories about me and my humorous ability to find misfortune all over the world. I would recommend anything in that column, it ranges from being arrested in Lima to falling in mud on a tour of the Mekong Delta, Vietnam. Plus I’m currently editing the rest of my stories from South East Asia! So stay tuned because I share some ‘top secret’ personal aspects of my travels through Asia (yes, I have emotions!) AND at the end of my travels I will dish out the ‘juicy’ gossip I have been withholding from readers for far too long.

There’s a question that I’ve been kicking around awhile and I’m sure at one time or another so have you: is it possible to look sexy when you’re on the road? Obviously I’m not talking about a weekend escape to London where you take along a suitcase and a half per person; no, I’m referring to those weeks or even months-long trips to destinations unknown.

I’d like to offer some tips and gladly welcome any and all ideas you might have regarding same:

- Pack your rucksack intelligently. Don’t include delicate wear that will end up more wrinkled than a used Kleenex. Keep in mind that you’re going to be doing and undoing your rucksack umpteen times. So don’t fancy having the time to take things to the cleaners or related whimsies. It ain’t gonna happen. Try to bring along clothes that combine easily … that great red tee of yours may go well with your black hoodie but one day you may have to put it on with your green windbreaker and you’ll look like, well, crap.

- Stay away from bathing suits like the plague. A bathing suit, as its name indicates, is for “bathing” at a beach, a swimming pool, etc. The rest of the time it totally lacks all sex appeal whatsoever. Plus, it’s not even comfortable to wear. At least, mine isn’t.

- Mix it up with those accessories. Take along a few things (a snazzy watch, a smart belt …) which tells others that even though you’re not wearing your Sunday best during your travels, you know what looking sexy means in normal everyday routine. Besides, some accessories like a stylish hat, worn well, gives you an air of distinction and character while communicating that you are a breed apart.

- Travel wherever its summer. Nothing complements your wardrobe better than a good tan. Everyone looks better when their skin takes on darker tones, so hit the streets and catch some appearance-flattering rays, always remembering, of course, to do so with an ounce or prudence and protection.

Lastly, as we all know: real sex appeal — like beauty – is only skin deep, so if you think this post was silly and superficial maybe you’re right and you should delete it at all haste ; )

Will we ever manage to travel in time? Right now, it seems unlikely, but I suppose something similar was thought by the cavemen of yesteryear about space missions. Everything’s impossible until it happens. But there are reasons to think otherwise. As Stephen Hawking correctly pointed out, if in the future we succeed in travelling back to the past, why aren’t we now being invaded by tourists from the future?

Travelling back to the past could be good or bad depending on how those doing the travelling decided to rewrite history. Imagine convincing Hitler to dedicate himself to disseminating Jewish culture throughout the West, thus avoiding the millions nassacred during World War II, or another traveller introducing John Lennon to techno music and leaving us bereft of excellent Beatle music.

Even though the problems of travelling back to the past do not end here, sometimes temporary paradoxes emerge such as that of “the grandad” — a hypothetical case in which a traveller travels back in time to kill his grandfather, an eventuality which couldn’t happen since he wouldn’t be around to travel anyway. Travelling back in time has more than mere technological implications, as you’ve no doubt come to realize.

Travelling to the future, on the other hand, is significantly easier. All you have to do is sit back and wait since our position is constantly changing. That is, if we exclude the case of the Swede who travelled to the future hiding himself under the sink in his kitchen and discovering himself, obviously somewhat older. Check out the following video to see how it happened: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qBUv4j3DINE

Last week we found ourselves in Barcelona attending a workshop for entrepreneurs. We had become familiar with the Centric Point Hostel last summer and, since we liked it, decided to give it another whirl. Perhaps when you’re not in travel mode, staying overnight at a hostel is not your best option. Following is a minute-by-minute account of a rather complicated night:

23:37 We enter our room. It has six beds. In one of them, a girl from Hong Kong is sound asleep. Mikel, Jokin and myself unpack our bags and get into our respective beds. It looks like it’s going to be a calm night, as it should be, given our meeting-filled agenda tomorrow.

23:45 I set the alarm for seven a.m. and shut off the phone. I’m exhausted and waste no time in closing my eyes and falling asleep.

23:52 Two new roommates enter. Though respectfully quiet, they still manage to wake me. I should have no problem resuming my blissful snooze, it’s just a matter of waiting for them to fall asleep and have silence pervade the room once more.

00:03 Our new mates fall asleep. But my prediction is off the mark. Far from silence reigning, double-barrel snoring commences unabated, with no end in sight. Were a noise-meter placed in the room, I believe it would register 140 decibels. I’m not kidding.

00:16 I don’t want to get teed off. I give my new mates the benefit of the doubt, believing that The Revenge of Thor will soon pass. I cover my ears with my fingers, though I doubt I’ll be able to hold this positiion very long. I try covering my head with the pillow, and though it does muffle the noise some, it’s still impossible to get any shut-eye.

00:29 This is now torture. Mikel and Jokin are equally desperate and awake like myself. We have no choice but to take action. We start making “nac, nac, nac” sounds, which supposedly quiet the most determined snorers. No matter how high we raise our “nac” volume, there’s no way of shutting these guys down and making them realize our problem.

00: 46 Suddenly, we hear angry fists banging on the wall that separates us from the adjoining room. We’re not alone in our fight, though the results are the same.

01:45 Nearly two hours have passed since this calvary began and these two incessasnt snoring machines continue working in overdrive. Despite our own-noise-making efforts, a nuclear alarm wouldn’t wake these two up.

02:06 Just what we needed. Finnish teenagers running through the halls, showing unequivocal signs of post-partying madnesss. Slamming doors. Screaming, Shouting. Welcome to Hostel Hell.

02:35 I’m desperate. PISSED OFF. Nervous. Feeling aggressive. At this rate, I’m not going catch a wink. And tomorrow promises to be a long, intense work day. The time to take drastic measures has arrived. My most impulsive side emerges. I grab my sack, wallet and mobile and head for reception to reserve a room for myself. Whatever it takes, whatever it costs.

02: 40 I start walking downstairs. When I hit the first landing, I see there’s a group of girls at the front desk. I check myself out in the mirror: I see my pajama, a sleeping bag wrapped around my head and my wallet and mobile in hand. I think. I take my time. I see this group has no intention of leaving. Despite my desperation level, I don’t want these girls to see me this way and think I’m crazy. I return to my room and abort the mission.

02: 57 My final strategy is to fall asleep to the sound of music. Jokin follows suit. Simon & Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits has worked for me in the past since I was a kid. I bet on the sure thing. As the songs advance, my anger dissipates and sleep takes over. Paradoxically, “The Sounds of Silence” is the last song i hear. What a classic.

07:00 My alarm goes off. I’m dying from sleep deprivation and, to worsen matters, my head is about to explode from listening to Simon & Garfunkel for four hours. It’s a new day. Cést la vie.

P.S. I want to go on record as saying: People who snore should have the decency and common courtesy to NOT share rooms. For the good of society. Amen.

Meeting a member of the opposite sex should never be among the main reasons a treveller embarks on a new adventure; on the other hand, being a traveller shouldn’t require you to give up flirting either. I’ve decided to pass along five sure ways to make a connection while on the road:

1. Stay at cheap hostels and sign up for every evening jaunt, pub crawl, …. The right mix of alcohol and youth increases your chances, no question. Of course, check beforehand to see that the cheap hostel you’ve chosen has free private rooms that night. And if there are none, you can always follow the advice I gave you a while back when i discussed sex in hostels.

2. Avoid trendy discos. If you’re looking for pretty sights, smart dress and drinks at 15 euros a pop, going to the most “in” spots is probably your best bet. Personal experience tells me, however, that the people who frequent these places are more hung up with being seen there than having fun or meeting someone new.

3. Separate yourself from the “competition”. Take advantage of the fact that you’re on holiday and go out on a weeknight. There’ll be fewer people, reducing your chances of success theoretically, but in reality, you’ll likely meet quite a few interesting sorts without having to “fight” others for your dream target’s attention.

4. Don’t fret over your linguistic limitations. Don’t think that because you know the right line in someone’s language and repeating it over and over ad nauseam that you’re going to appear more witty. And don’t even consider uttering “voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir” to male/female French speakers. Trés boring. What wins people over ultimately is a compelling conversation.

5. Lastly, wear one of the first 100 T-shirts designed by the Trourist team. Who can resist succumbing to all that the Route 66 Trourist Tee represents? ; ) ; ) ; )

Even though all of us at one time or another has been guilty of being a tourist or acting like one, allow me to dedicate a few lines to answering the question: What in heaven’s name is a tourist?

1) Anyone who’s ever ordered an “authentic” serving of sangría or goulash. You know the type, he or she feels they’re getting down with the locals cos they stopped off somewhere to sample the most typical dish at the most typical place. Truly “authentic” dishes don’t advertise, they sell themselves, and don’t serve as a pretext for opportunists to charge more and offer less. Do your home-based favorite haunts –regardless of which city you come from– ever announced their authenticity? Do they put out flyers or people on the street to draw you in? The question is a rhetorical one. We know the reply: Of course they don’t!

2) Anyone who treats those places visited as if they were monuments, part of the landscape, or interacts with others as if they were hostesses hired by the local tourist bureau. Tourists love to stroll and act/react surprised. They will observe: “Look at that half-naked, undernourished child. Poor thing! Let’s take a snapshot OR “Look at that smartly-dressed exec. I’m sure he’s the director of some top bank.” Living a city for this kind of tourist is no different than visiting a zoo.

3) Anyone who hits the ground running — and heads straight for the local souvenir shop to pick up his “I was in Lanzarote”, “J’taime Paris” or local football team T-shirt. Regardless of what you think of someone who falls in love with a city he or she has just met, a T-shirt does not denote your kinship with a city; on the contrary, it has the opposite effect. You’re sending signals to all who see you, informing them that you’re a tourist which is how they’ll treat you.

Photo by: Sebastían-Dario

4) Anyone who would never list photography as a hobby, but suddenly fancies his or her natural talent for capturing the most touching and tender moments on film, including grass growth at some public garden. This kind of toruist is so busy leaving no stone un-photographed, posing before/beside/behind any monument as proof of the good time he or she is having, that they never quite get around to even knowing which city they’re in.

5) Anyone who when meeting up with a local, say a taxi-driver for instance, asks the same two questions (usually after having knocked back a few). First on the list is: What’s your favorite team? And should the listener play along, follows up with a second question that usually centers on: “Hey, just how pretty and hot are the girls around here anyway?” When this unsuspecting tourist gets hit with a fare three times the going rate, seismic shocks take over. Then again, he may be too tipsy anyway to consider the fact that perhaps a local might not be up for chit-chat which debases the resident female species.