I fly a few times a year, and for someone who doesn’t fly for business-related purposes, I represent most leisure travellers with a limited vacation budget, who would try as much as possible to economize my trip. It would be the standard economy class seat on a long-haul flight, or if available, I’d fly budget airlines for short-haul (less than four hours).
It’s pretty ridiculous if I must say, to disrupt a flight because some passengers are not happy with one another, more so about an issue that is really not an issue at all – that is, a long-legged flyer using a plastic device to prevent another passenger seated in front from reclining his/her seat.
So you can’t stretch your legs out – big deal – a hundred over innocent fellow fliers have to waste a couple of hours on an unnecessary detour so you can battle out this non-issue about reclining plane seats?? Seriously, will the cabin crew please duct tape this inconsiderate imbecile to his/her seat until we all reach our destination? (Or throw this jerk out of the airlock! See What Really Happens When You Get Blown Out of an Airlock)
Apparently and very shockingly, to many people, they prefer for airlines not to have reclining plane seats. (See Telegraph Travel’s article on Should Reclining Seats Be Banned?) I’m sure half the people who voted don’t even fly at all.
Have you ever taken a plane before? To have your back settled into an awkward near-90 degree angle for more than 6-7 hours is akin to torture. There’s also a reason why after a certain age, we run away screaming when someone suggests a long, painkiller-popping cross-country bus ride.
When it comes to travelling, especially. Being frugal doesn’t have to be painful – in fact if you can look waaay beyond that, it can become a true competitive sport. Not those annoying conversations in a backpacker hostel’s lounge about who-got-the-cheapest-(bedbug-ridden)-bed-in-Lima though, no.
While I haven’t been desperate enough to sleep on a park bench, or to pawn off a Swiss Army knife to subsist on some bread rolls, I relish the conscious choice of going cheap, occasionally. Rest of the time the southern route IS the only realistic choice.
So it’s fun to flip through pillow menus, peruse the never-ending aisles at a Continental breakfast buffet, to train for triathlons you’ll never qualify for in the Olympic-sized hotel lounge pool with its muscle relaxing water-jet Jacuzzi ponds. When I’m just going in to crash on a bed that is almost always too soft on my off-the-trodden-and-smashed-path body, I don’t see why I have to pay premium price just to enjoy the cheap pleasures of swiping 500 bars of soap and calling the chambermaid up to replenish the bathroom supplies. Continue reading
Travel: Hey, meet “Music Festival”.
Me: Hello, nice to meet you.
Music Festival: Well, lucky us, because the pleasure is ours.
In these times where many people think vinyl discs are for antique collectors, where most of us hardly buy CDs anymore (if we even ever did, and what the hell are ‘singles’ anyway?), sometimes the only ways to show our love for our favourite band and music are to listen to them religiously and regularly and track their progress on their official social media page, checking out new material as they come onto the scene. And then of course, when they go on tour, we scrimp and save and buy the more-often-than-not exorbitant tickets to watch them in the flesh for a measly 2 hour gig.
While I do listen to my music with gusto and passion, I was never one to “go all out”, attend concerts and buy their t-shirts and stuff. For one, I never budgeted for that sort of thing — I was a poor student, plus I grew up as the Napster generation. My love and my support are what that really count, my cynical side thought: they can make their money from people who can actually afford. Continue reading
I feel the most alive right before visiting a place I’ve never been in my life. I remember myself, sitting on a train heading south towards Lake Constance from Ravensburg (the town where I stayed with my host family), inhaling the familiar scent of leather upholstery mixed with black coffee, staring out at the emerald and sienna and earthy tones of the countryside, and the thing that occupies my mind the most, is imagining what the lake looks like in summertime.
Last time I was nearby, the trees were topped with snowy caps, everywhere, save for the asphalt autobahns and winding roads, was blanketed with a sea of white white white. What shade of blue would the lake be now that it’s summer? Would I still be able to see the mountains in Switzerland? Do the seagulls here squawk like their cousins in Brighton and the French Riviera?
The train slid into the station at Friedrichshafen Station, where I followed the flow of day trippers and bikers and everyone else to the other platform to catch a connecting train heading eastwards to the famed lakeside town of Lindau…
I thought about writing this for quite sometime now. I didn’t before, because I felt ridiculously sore about it weeks after. To be a warrior at travelling, I have to accept that bad things happen, we fall, we brush ourselves off, we get up and we go again. (Plus it makes for a good 5-minute dinner party story.)
My boyfriend and I booked a trip to visit the famed Borobudur and some of the volcanoes in Java in February. I was more than psyched because it was close to the top of the to-see list for me. I sold the idea shamelessly to him, and since I did all the legwork as usual — trip planning, booking and all that jazz — he was agreeable. Sounds like another adventure waiting to happen.
A little sense of foreboding nagged at the back of my mind. My psychic mind told me it’s not going to be a volcanic eruption or anything of that sort. I prayed that the budget airlines plane will fly straight.
I am the kind of person who likes to run all over the place. I don’t like to be forced to stick around too long in one place. So I wandered here and there, whenever I can.
I always thought that travel makes a person more tolerant, more easygoing, more devil-may-care. In a way, yes, you learn to accept all sorts of things, just having experienced something, you usually get a sense of “oh it could be worse” in retrospect.
Indeed, it could be worse. As I moved through places, culture and people, I slowly turned critical, and started to paint a picture of what a correct world should look like. It is ironic, for I have gone from uninitiated and inexperienced, to fairly tolerant, and then back full circle again, to being a stickler about things.
Let me explain.
Working as an aupair, especially at a “ripe” old age of twenty-four:
Not the first thing that comes to people’s minds when you are fresh out of college.
Not your conventional resume building gig.
Not exactly the most intuitive job in the world.
Many people have their misconceptions about what working as an au pair entails, some (if not too many) assume that it is a glorified term for domestic servant, full-time nanny, home-stay programmes where one exchanges room and board for childcare. In a way, I don’t blame them for having the wrong idea, after all much of my work involves most aspects of a little bit of this and that.
Like all other jobs, you come away from it learning something.
Having being an au pair for nearly one year, I would like to think that there is something distinctly unique about this work experience that makes your person just more complete, more introspective and richer at the end of it.
Knowing that it won’t last forever, knowing that it is your own choice and not a volunteer stint, knowing that it will throw you into the deep end of the pool called life – I mean, it is a lethal cocktail and a hell of a rollercoaster ride, filled with anxiety, a huge sense of responsibility, excitement, hardship and lots of heartache thrown into the mix… not to mention the occasional stomach in the throat sensation. Continue reading