My Top 5 Travel Tips

Realllly scratching for topics here, since I’m not traveling...at the moment. Anyway, I’m always on a budget, like always. And since I always want to go places super far away aka expensive flights, when I get there I have to live off nothing. At the same time, I’m not really a camping/living off the land kinda girl – I hate bugs, I like being clean, no thanks to sleeping outdoors, etc. But I’m adaptable. Below are some tips I’ve picked up along the way:

Body wipes are your friend. If you’re traveling cheaply, showers are a privilege. If you’re living in a developing country, running water is a privilege. I always carry some sort of wipes with me, even if I only use them on the plane ride over – trust me, the people sitting next to you (and I’m assuming you’re in that middle seat because it was the cheapest and hey you can last 12 hours in cramped area with no access to the arm rests) will greatly appreciate it. They become your shower, your face wash, your toilet paper, your hand soap, your ahh that’s better. So bring them and bring them in bulk.

Preventatively take the Pepto. I love street food: in DC, in NYC, in other countries, and most of all in places where I should absolutely not be eating it. Our western bodies can’t handle the way it’s prepared, but it smells sooo good, it’s so cheap and whatever you’ll deal with the consequences later. Well, having dealt with a parasite (courtesy of Chaing Mai, Thailand), I now preventative take pepto before eating street food abroad– which I will not give up. It’s authentic, it’s part of the experience and, most importantly, it’s the only thing you can really afford.

Identification. Never, and I mean never, give up your passport or yellow fever card. This one may seem obvious, but I had a little incident in the DRC about someone taking my yellow fever card. You want to get back into a developed country, do not let that yellow saving grace out of your sight…EVER. And always carry some ID – I had a random road stop in Rwanda and I had no ID on me, some blank stares and battered Kinyarwanda later he let me go on my way, but I think things would have been easier with my license on me.

Bring earplugs, Imodium and an eye mask. Ear plugs: There will be a baby on your flight and they will most certainly not sleep through the night (that rhymed). Staying in that $2/night hostel really saves, but don’t forget about the 15 other people you will be spending the night with. The Imodium: didn’t you just eat that street food? The eye mask: the sun rises early, but I most certainly do not. Mine says “Sleeping Beauty” on it, and yes I do wear it on public transportation, get over it, move on, I have.

Gender Specific:

Ladies:

You’re going to go out at night; I’m not just saying that because I’m 24 – going out in the country is part of the experience. This doesn’t mean you have to bring your stilettos and satc dress, but bring a going out top – they are so small you can squeeze them in and use them as layering tanks (depending on the level of sparkle). It’s also ok to bring makeup. I know from most of my travel pictures, you’re wondering – did you wear makeup? And obviously, as you can see, the answer is no. But, going out is part of the experience, and there’s nothing wrong with looking nice when you do that.

Getting ready to go out in Australia –

needless to say, I brought a lot of going out tops

Gents:

Bring pants. I know, Africa is hot as eff, but for some reason in a lot of countries they wear pants. I do not understand this but accept it. Only children wear shorts and let’s be real, you’re going to stick out enough, so just throw on the pants, especially in culturally sensitive countries. But really Africa – the pants? the heat?

Hope those were helpful or, at the very least, entertaining. Happy non-traveling Tuesday!

TravelZoo - You're a Real Jerk

I don’t need this! Yeah, I signed up for you, which makes Wednesdays very difficult. I get a weekly email about fabulous travel deals, but I know it’s coming. Wednesday about mid-day, hold strong Nora. But this? I got this one on a Tuesday:

I was just sitting there minding my own business/other people’s business since I work in PR, and I get a what should have been innocent email. I click over to my Gmail and NEWSFLASH! Panic, read quickly, read quickly. All I see if 50% off, Mexico, travel deal, click here, next thing I know I’m planning dates and scanning my friends to see who is the best one to invite. Next I start calculating if I have enough to just book it on my credit card and find someone later.

Finally, when I rip myself ruthlessly out of the haze, I completely shut down Mozilla, close my eyes, breathe and go back to work.

Also, I must have clicked that I live in DC, because the special always leaves from there. Or...do they just know. I’m sure there are some settings I can change, but going on the site, finding my settings, changing them…I’m just not that kinda girl.

And I can’t not get the emails. I just can’t. Because what if one day it’s a free trip? Or what if they run a special to Kigali? Or what if one day the email reads: Nora Leary we are sending you somewhere great, just because you’re you. I simply can’t take that chance.

Anyway, it’s a great deal – sign up here: TravelZoo. But you are warned.

Telling the Family You're Moving Abroad

When I moved to Rwanda, so many people asked: “what did your family say?” I think a lot of people struggle with this, since let’s face it: your family gets a bit concerned when you make the brash decision to up and leave. The only advice I can give is to make the decision for yourself and let your family/friends come around to that decision. I told ORI yes and booked my flight before telling many people so that I would be able to honestly make the decision for me, not for anyone else. Of course, getting advice is great, but from unbiased sources, not people who don’t understand the politics of the country you’re going to and the reason behind your decision.

Telling my family was…interesting to say the least.

So you have a reference of who I am talking about

My older brother was all for it, but he had been at school for 26 consecutive years, now working as a lawyer at one of those big scary law firms - I’m surprised he didn’t hide in my luggage. My sister couldn’t have been more irrational, emitting a high pitched WHAT?! And insisting that it wasn’t happening. My dad and I didn’t really talk until word of my move had spread through my family, then sighed and asked me why I was doing this. But really, he is the pot calling me, the kettle, black because 2 days after I left for Kigali, he went to Antarctica – uhh scary, deserted, cold, if that’s not the scene of a Michael Crichton novel, I don’t know what is. Really, you don’t know there’s not a Jurassic Park there!

My mom and little brother, however, were a bit more ridiculous, so I’m highlighting those convos below:

My mom – the eventual sympathetic one. At first horrified at the idea of her little daughter moving to Africa, my mom soon came around to my move. She came around, and then she really came around. One conversation with my mom took place while she looked at the website of my organization, reading the individual stories of the students:

Mom: Wow Nora, these students have come through a lot; it’s really great you’re going.

Nora: Yeah, they really have; they’re incredible.

Mom: You know, I would love to do something like you’re doing

Nora: Well I mean you still technically could. Why did I just say that?

Mom: What if I went with you?

Nora: What?

Mom: I could take you there and do some work.

Nora: Mom, you want to take me and drop me off at my new job? Now I had no friends in Kigali at this time, so having my mom drop me off like taking me to summer camp would not really help that situation. Not to mention it’s a very long, uncomfortable and expensive flight.

Mom: What? I could take you over there and make sure you get settled.

Now she didn’t actually take me, and even though I requested visitors, no one came to see me in Kigali, so was I even there? Well, none of you will know for sure, now will you.

My little brother – the lying one. So I love my little brother, but he tends to speak as if he knows the world (he’s 17 though, so didn’t we all think that?) When I told him, he already knew from my parent’s grumblings about it, so this is how that went:

Nora: Hey bud, did you hear about my new move?

Conor: Yeah, mom has been so upset and dad is mad.

Nora: Well it’s really safe and they don’t understand that.

Conor: Do you know there’s a war going on there?

Nora: No, there’s not. That was in 1994, it’s long over.

Conor: No, Nora – there’s a war; you’ll be living in a war zone.

Nora: Conor, no there is not. Check the state department site, check the news, the war is next door in the DRC, not Rwanda.

Conor: War. zone.

Nora: (Pause) Can you put mom on the phone.

I also pretty much ruined Thanksgiving because that’s when my extended family found out (I have a very large Irish Catholic family ps), and you know what else, that’s not the first time I’ve ruined Thanksgiving – one year I brought the stomach flu home from school and everyone got it. Don’t make me do that again.