It's Been A While...

Too long, in fact! I'm still alive. We're busier than ever -- we're packing again! Unfortunately, it's not for another whirlwind backpacking tour of the globe. This time, we're moving with the intention of staying still for a long time, because we recently purchased a house and are getting ready to move in very, very soon. The summer was far too short and far too cold for my liking, and work has been kicking our butts like crazy! So much for our newly-found Zen existences.

I have picked up a new hobby, though -- rock climbing! So far I've only tried indoor climbing, but I am thoroughly addicted to the adrenaline rush and sense of achievement that comes with every climb. I may also be addicted to the herds of fit and shirtless men that swarm the gym every evening I've been there. Yay for trying new things.

In less exciting news, Love and Chopsticks has been bookified -- sort of. I never meant to make a profit from my little online project here -- I only wanted a hard copy to archive for our book shelf. Later, I found that friends and family were interested in purchasing copies for their own collections; I have to admit that I'm flattered and confused! Nevertheless, the link is here if you want to explore it.

I'll try to be more attentive to your needs in the future, friends. I've missed you.

There Must Be Copper in There Somewhere

We celebrated seven years of marriage this week -- our copper and/or wool anniversary, depending on who you talk to. While, last year, for our six-year anniversary, we threw ourselves off a bridge in New Zealand, this year we celebrated by spending a whack of money and buying our Dream Car: the Subaru Outback Limited Wagon. *THUMP THUMP THUMP* goes the heart.



Almost as exciting as bungy jumping. And oh, the adventures we'll have! Summer is here and that means road trips..

Extra! Extra! Budget Spreadsheet is Up!

I'm sorry BG's sorry that this has taken so long, but the wait's worth it. Here is the much-anticipated and very confusing budget spreadsheet.

Please let us know if you have any questions or need more information. I don't understand that thing at all, but I have a feeling it's pretty complete/absolutely over-the-top with detail. Enjoy!

Kindred Spirits

It's no secret that we essentially ate our way around the world. Though we experienced so many things, we remember distinctly the food -- naan breads bought on the streets of Delhi, blisteringly hot and tasting of charcoal; the comforting blandness of all-you-can-eat dal bhat in the mountains of Nepal; Tibetan momos (yak meat dumplings); sticky-sweet coconut sticky rice with cold sliced mango in Thailand. A few days after we got home, I was browsing through one of my favourite stores when I happened upon a recipe book about baking -- an obsession of mine, some might say.

This book caught my eye for a few reasons. As I said, it was about baking. It was full of recipes from all corners of the world -- middle Eastern breads, Montreal bagels, European pastries. It was full of gorgeous photos taken in these places, with little written vignettes that captured the spirit of the moments on the page. It was written by Canadians. I saw a recipe for good old-fashioned Canadian butter tarts and nearly swooned. I slammed the book shut and marched directly to the cash when I saw a recipe for Portuguese egg custard tarts, perhaps BG's most favourite thing in the world.

The book was Home Baking, written by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. They live in Toronto; they speak of a coffee shop in Kensington Market that they frequent; I think I know it. They travel the world and they collect stories and take photos, and they learn about a country and its culture by understanding the food that its people eat. They understand why food is so very important to us; they understand that it's so much more than nourishment. It's joy. It's a celebration. It's delicious.

Jeffrey and Naomi have written several delicious-looking recipe books, and I'm determined to own every single one. It seems that we came home and discovered a set of kindred spirits. I would love nothing more than to meet this amazing couple in that little coffee shop in Kensington and talk about -- well, food.

Right now, those Portuguese egg tarts are cooling on the kitchen counter, and I'm thinking I have to find a good place to hide them, if I want them to last until tomorrow.

Where To Next?

The wheels are turning. We are in absolutely no position to be even thinking about our next trip or even a vacation longer than a three-day long weekend in Algonquin Park... but it doesn't mean we can't dream. Contrary to popular belief, we didn't go out in the world last year to "get it out of our systems". It didn't do that. It only reaffirmed our feeling that there's so much out there to see -- and we want to see it all.

On the table for future travels (local and not-so-local...)

1. Egypt -- we didn't get here this time around, though we had intended to. We can't say we've seen the world until we've seen the Pyramids.



2. Turkey -- also cut from our itinerary at the last minute to make more space for lounging on the beach in Mauritius.



3. Patagonia, Argentina -- we've got a mountain fetish, and hiking in Patagonia will only feed it.



4. Churchill, Manitoba -- a little closer to home, though just as exciting, the polar bears of Canada hang out in Churchill every fall.



5. Easter Island, Chile -- You know why.



6. Greece -- The culture, the history, the food, the scenery.



7. Brazil -- reportedly the world's most Beautiful People live here. We want to feel inferior for a little while, so...



8. West Coast Trail, Vancouver Island -- I'm kind of chicken, but I'd LOVE to do this difficult hike one day.



9. Russia -- BG went here once upon a time, and we'd like to see how it's changed since then. Actually, we'd like to start here and do the Trans-Siberian Express and end up in China.



10. Can I say we want to do our trip all over again?

Ethical Travel

Travel, like everyday life, is full of decisions that must be made: where to eat, where to sleep, which bus to take. Along with these relatively easy decisions come the ones that can affect other people, whether locals or fellow travelers. For better or for worse, making the right choices can make a world of difference and can also make a difference in this world.

For starters, the easiest ethical travel choice to make is the one to avoid the sex trade. Prostitution may be the world's oldest profession, but it's also one of the most prevalent. I don't think I need to go into much detail about why it's horrible or why you should just not use, promote, or purchase the services of a prostitute anywhere -- whether at home or away, or in a back alley somewhere or in a glitzy casino. Don't be that creepy guy. As an obvious addendum, especially do not, not, NOT hire the services of a minor, as this act would move you well past the category of creepy guy and into the category of putrid and vehemently repulsive.

Child prostitution is not the only form of abuse that exists, unfortunately. Children all over the world are exploited in many ways. The Oscar-winning movie Slumdog Millionaire illustrates this point vividly in one scene where an orphaned child, a beggar by trade, has his eyes put out with hot acid -- because blind beggars make more money. His "pimp", his owner, chooses to have this done. As much as we'd all like to believe that this scene is an exaggeration, I have to tell you that it is, unfortunately, not. Child beggars are especially appealing to tourists because they're adorable. Their innocence touches that soft spot within us all, and you may find yourself giving over handfuls of change to fill their bowls. After all, it's mere pennies to you, right? It might be, but the pennies collected by hundreds of children are funneled into the pockets of their owner, and the kids are left with nothing. They don't go to school, they don't get jobs, they don't get fed. After all, skinny kids make more money.

Travelers with big hearts often fill their backpacks and suitcases with sweets, toys, and pencils when they travel to less-developed countries, in the hopes of befriending a little person or offering a token in exchange for a photo opportunity. In every town you'll find a budding photographer, shiny new DSLR around the neck, searching for that perfect shot -- the one of the beautiful naive face with the soulful eyes that say so much. Once the photo has been taken, a pocketful of sweets is distributed to the subject and any others in the vicinity.

The problem with the candy bribes is twofold. First, giving sugary candies to children that have often never even seen a toothbrush (or dentist) will lead to cavities, pulled teeth, and years of pain. It hardly seems worth it. We thought about getting around this by giving out sugarless candies. A fellow traveler told us, proudly, that instead of giving just candy, he gave out vitamins that looked like Gummy Bears. Oh, he was so smart. We solved the first problem but not the second -- the one with far more serious consequences.

Children in popular travel destinations quickly learn that tourists = treats. After the first few generous backpackers come through with lollipops and peppermints, the next bus load will find themselves stalked like the Pied Piper, with dozens of children trailing behind. Their hands will be outstretched. In many places, even the youngest of children could say the words, "Chocolate" or "Sweets" in English when they didn't know how to say anything else. These well-meaning travelers have created a generation of beggars who depend on tourists for hand-outs. They learn that it's an acceptable and easy way to make a living. They begin to ask for not just candy, but also other food, for money, for clothes. They ask and ask and ask. I remember vividly once being asked for a drink by a young man while we changed a flat tire in Namibia. He seemed to have been walking awhile, so I gave a Coke. Immediately he put his hand out and asked for a chocolate bar, barely giving his drink a glance. It was frustrating and disappointing, and it left me feeling guilty for having given him anything at all, and even guiltier that I didn't want to give him anything else, all because he asked.

Travelers to developing countries will understand when others speak of being treated like a "walking ATM". They complain, bitterly, that they are being taken advantage of in markets and shops; that they are being asked for handouts; that they are seen as rich tourists with loads of extra money to give away. First, you are being taken advantage of, and the precise reason is that you are a rich tourist with loads of extra money to give away. The fact that you are on a vacation means that you have more disposable income than most people in the world. You have a job that pays you to take time off? You have enough savings to spend some of it on travel for fun? You can afford to fly in an airplane? Dollar signs everywhere, my friend. So bargain for that souvenir in the market, but be fair. Don't try to screw the guy, for god's sakes. It's a game, to be sure, but it's not a fight to the death. On the other hand, don't pay the first price you're quoted (except in Laos. They won't try to screw you in Laos... yet.) It IS a game, and paying the exorbitantly inflated price you're given makes it harder for the next group of travelers wandering through.

How, then, do you find that balance of saving your pocketbook and sharing what you've got? Spend within your means, but shop locally. Eat at the street-food cart and not at McDonald's. Buy your bottled water from the mom and pop shop, not the 7-11. Make friends with kids; share experiences with them, not sweets. Give when your heart tells you to, by all means. Just be aware of what you're doing; usually an act of kindness is simply that. Unfortunately, sometimes an innocent gesture can be twisted into something darker.

I've Got the Ho-Hum Doldrums

It's a beautiful spring day in Toronto. It was bright and sunny and warm, all of those good things. We have survived our first Canadian winter in a couple of years -- it seemed ages long, and yet we only arrived when it was already half over. Long weekends are soon upon us, and we're starting to make plans for weekend getaways over the summer. This is a season of optimism and hope. We should be cheered by the longer days. We should be making the most of them, going out for walks after dinner when it's still bright outside. It's only a matter of days until we start seeing people on patios, and soon I'll be able to wear sandals (but not for long! Work mandates closed toes only.)

People keep asking me: "Does it feel like you never left?" What do I say? Yes, in some ways -- I have slid back into my old life, my old ways, very easily. Nepal and New Zealand are like a distant dream now, an experience I hardly remember. I remember that I felt something when the Himalayas opened up before me, sitting in the back of a tiny hatchback surrounded by goats. I remember that same feeling when we turned the corner and started to walk down the Hooker Track. In both cases it was more than an experience; I can't even say that I was struck by it. I was flat-out walloped by it. I was floored. It was like overload -- the sparkling sunlight, the waving grasses, the dewy mornings. The mountains stretched out so high and yet so wide that I could only take it all in one scene at a time. I wanted to stand still and stare forever, and yet I couldn't help moving forward because I just had to see what was next. And now? I power through my morning routine, sit on the subway. Coffee and breakfast at work. Break. Lunch. Work. Home. Power through dinner, power through my workout. Chores. Litterbox. Shower. Bed. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Life is no longer about experiencing; it's about survival. We're trying to relax more, to keep that chilled-out attitude that we got so GOOD at while we were gone. However, thinking about how we were while we were gone reminds us that we're not gone. We're here. We're home.

What I wouldn't give to be on an airplane right now.

You Should Know This

Before you embark on a trip around the world -- or a trip anywhere outside of North America, actually -- you should really learn to drive with a manual transmission. Automatic cars can be hard to find in a lot of places; they'll also cost you more to rent. Let me tell you a story.

Before we left in 2007 BG had driven standard exactly twice. He assured me he knew what he was doing and could also show me. (I had shifted from first to second, once, in my ex-boyfriend's parents' pickup truck.) On our first day off from SANCCOB in Cape Town, we decided to rent a car and drive down to Cape Point. We chose a manual transmission to save money.

We were living in a guest house situated in the suburbs, so the neighbourhood was quiet and peaceful, a perfect place to brush up on driving skills. The first problem was that the car rental company, which normally delivered the cars, had us come to the office in downtown Cape Town instead. "Are you SURE you can do this?" I asked BG again. "Yes" was what I heard over and over.

Once the car was in our hands, BG got in the driver's seat. He adjusted the mirrors and seat meticulously. He shifted into first and we cruised slowly (downhill) down the street to a stop sign; we turned right onto Long Street (perhaps THE busiest street in downtown Cape Town) and came to a stop at a red light. At rush hour.

So apparently there was a 0.005% incline at this light, because at this point we found ourselves in a difficult situation. Every single time BG tried to get the car in motion again it stalled. Then it would roll backwards and he would slam his foot on the brake. The light changed three times. I sat completely paralyzed and unable to help, as he grew more and more flustered. People behind us were very angry. A kind taxi driver on a break approached us and offered to help. BG declined at first, but after three more stalled attempts sheepishly called him over. "I was wondering if you could help me... (playing it cool, not admitting he has no effing clue what he's doing)... I'm not used to this rental car and I can't seem to find first gear." Mr. Nice Taxi Driver Man tried to direct from his place on the street, but it didn't help. People were honking and yelling. Finally BG said, "You know what, maybe you can just drive us back to the rental place and we'll get an automatic." "No, no," the driver insisted, "I can show you how to drive this car. It will take 5 minutes. Very easy." So he got in the driver's seat and whipped around the corner to a quiet parking lot. "Here, get in and drive, I will show you how and then you will be fine." BG got into the driver's seat. I took a seat on the lawn with my book and waited.

It all happened so quickly. BG started the car and shifted into reverse. Then he let out the clutch and gunned the engine hard... and hit the tree that was right behind him. There was a loud crash followed by an awful silence. Then the instructor said, "Shit. These trees are not supposed to be here anyway, in these parking lots." BG said, "I think you'd better drive us back to the rental place." This time, he agreed.

In the end, we actually had to learn to drive standard because the truck we had hired to drive through Southern Africa was standard. We ended up taking lessons -- each of us spent two hours in the car with a cute medical student/driving instructor named Hannes, and he taught us how to do it all. It wasn't hard, actually, and grew to be an almost enjoyable experience. By the time we had to drive the truck, we were pros.

If you could learn how to do this before you leave, it would be good. However, I'm glad that we didn't, because it's given me my favourite story of all time -- the one where BG backs into a tree. Ah, sweet vengeance.

I Love This

Someone just sent me a link to this website. Totally made my day.

I thought I'd post my favourite traveler's complaint, but they were all awesome. Actually, my favourite might actually be this one:

"My fiancé and I booked a twin-bedded room but we were placed in a double-bedded room. We now hold you responsible for the fact that I find myself pregnant. This would not have happened if you had put us in the room that we booked."

I love people.

A Snap of the Fingers

We spoke to my sister-in-law today. She's in Africa, volunteering for a few more months. Her placement ends in May, and she hasn't found any new opportunities, and is toying with the idea of coming home -- the economy's not good, she's worried it'll take a while to find a job, blah blah blah.

We very, very strongly advised her to stay. Her ticket brings her home to Toronto at the end of September; why would she cut her trip short by six months? Sure, she's worried. Sure, she's probably homesick. She's tired and lonely and all of those things that make the thought of home, and stability, very appealing right about now. We remember those feelings with great clarity. Now that we have home and stability, the thought of being where she is right now is extremely tempting.

So many people have said to us, "I wish I could do what you have done!" Well, they all can. However, there are lots of reasons that they think they can't. They are the same reasons we waited so long to leave -- the jobs, the house, the family, the fear. I'm not exaggerating in the least when I say it was a monumental effort to get everything tucked neatly away before we took off to Kathmandu. I also want to point out that we couldn't have done it alone. We had ongoing help from many people in the form of emotional support, people to do the odd little jobs for us, people to take care of our stuff while we were gone. Doing it once was hard enough. Doing it again -- well, I might not need as much convincing, but I wouldn't look forward to it.

She's already done the hardest part. She left -- and now that she's gone, she should stay gone. This is truly the chance of a lifetime, and she should make the most of it, even though right now it's hard to see it for what it is. I hope she gets there soon.