No, no, no, no, no, I don’t hate travel. I love the guts out of travel. However, there most certainly are some things I hate about travel. Even the things we love aren’t peachy and rosy all the time.
Moving Between Point A and B
I just want to be at point B. Is that so terrible? I know some people get all googly-eyed over enjoying the journey. Blah, blah, blah. I like the destination. I don’t like carrying all my bags, haggling taxi prices, and sitting on sweaty buses for hours and hours and hours. Sometimes I reach a lovely zen place while sitting on buses or planes, where I think about abstract concepts and life in general. Most of the time though, I’m frazzled and sweating my face off.
How Much Cash Do I Budget For The Last Day in Country?
I usually either end up with too much money at the end of a trip or just barely enough to the point that I’m begging taxi drivers to take me to the airport. I still have $20 worth of Nepali rupees in my purse that I would really like to get in American dollars.
Hearing Generalizations About Americans
I can’t tell you how sick I get of hearing people say negative things about Americans, like I am supposed to either defend or apologize for my heritage. I really don’t care to hear what people think of Americans and I don’t appreciate being lumped in with some mass generalization.
I may have just mentioned something about sweating my face off, but I have not gone into the extent of these sweat issues. Ninety per cent of the sweat I produce comes out of my face, which looks real great in those memorable photographs in front of memorable monuments and what not. Hot weather makes me hot and walking around in hot weather makes me sweat…out my face. Maybe I’m the only one with this issue, but it’s definitely a top 5 annoyance.
Getting sick happens, it’s part of the experience, part of the story, and it’s still awful. Being up til all hours of the night with an array of stomach issues can wear one down. The stress of finding medicine in an unknown place of deciding if a doctor’s visit is in order is not my idea of a good time. Neither is crying in the middle of a train station in India because I feel like throwing up and want my mommy.