“Pump your arms, your legs will follow…”

– Marathon advice. Life advice?

As I struggle to process what happened at the Boston Marathon yesterday, I wonder: “How is it that we humans invest so much energy in our own destruction?”

Then I consider what’s at the heart of the spirit of marathons, and the reasons why crowds of people were gathered at the finish line in the first place. Through this process, I attempt to restore some of my lost hope in humanity, because I believe if we lose that marathon spirit, that’s when we’ve really lost.

Marathons and the Human Spirit

I have an oddly emotional relationship with long-distance races considering that I’m not an avid runner, that I’ve never once run a race.

Dan introduced me to the world of running. I remember cheering him on during a hailstorm at the Prague Marathon 9 years ago. We have friends who are runners, some of whom we cheered on less than ten days ago at the Berlin Half Marathon. I’ve stood out in all shades of weather along the edge of race courses. What’s most remarkable, though, is that I find myself cheering my heart out for people I’ve never laid eyes on in my life and will likely never see again. I’ve fought back inexplicable tears and emotions watching complete strangers pursue their potential, wage their struggles.

I know I’m not alone. If you’ve ever been to one of these races, you probably know what I mean.

Dan tells a story of a spectator who ran beside him for a couple of blocks in Prague when he’d clearly hit the wall around mile 23. The supporter clapped his hands and offered advice for marathons and life the world over, “Pump your arms, your legs will follow.”

Why on earth would someone do this?

Because self-destruction be damned – this too, is the human spirit.

Young fans at the Berlin marathon

Boston Marathon: Bombs, Stories of Hope

When I heard the news yesterday about how bombs targeted the finish line of the Boston Marathon, my view of humanity took a hit. How could anyone deliberately target something built of goodness, of kindness — an event that exemplifies people working together, cheering on strangers, celebrating hard work and potential?

Clearly, those bombs were not only meant to harm a large group of people, but also to wipe out our spirit.

Not long after the incident, however, stories of hope emerged. Of people helping people. Of runners continuing to run after 26 miles — not only to finish but also to make it to the hospital to give blood. Of people bringing blankets and food, of people placing their names on a list to open their homes to runners needing shelter.

Every time I think we’re down for the count, I find an overwhelming resilience in humanity. It’s one that finds energy in the collective effort it takes to pick ourselves back up, to help and support each other. Perhaps I’m buoyed by the concept that the greatest measure of who we are is not in how we respond to the favorable wind, but how we respond in times of difficulty.

Amidst all the questions surrounding what happened in Boston yesterday afternoon, I want to shine a light on that spirit, the marathon spirit, the spirit for all long roads ahead.

Channeling the Spirit of the Marathon: Five Lessons

What is it about marathons that stir my emotions? No matter where, they are infused with the best of what the human spirit has to offer. Hope, support, potential: we celebrate the effort and achievement of not only the people we know, but also the people we don’t.

Consider the beauty of this. And recognize how these lessons learned might apply to everyday life. In this way, I wish that every day could be race day.

1) Cheer people you don’t know.
For some reason, walls come down on race day and we have no inhibitions cheering on someone we don’t really know, some of the same complete strangers we might otherwise disregard or avoid. We look someone we don’t know in the eye, and we want – no, almost will – them to keep going, to do better. We create connections, however fleeting, and lasting good will. We may never see each other again. But that’s OK; the impression of that moment remains.

Don’t go blindly, but beware of putting up walls that prevent us from celebrating one another and lending a helping hand when it’s needed.

2) Defy stereotypes.
The runners that often bring me to tears are the atypical ones, the unlikely suspects. Perhaps the 65 or 75-year-old man (or woman) who demonstrates that activity and goal setting need not end as we grow older.

Or there’s the middle-aged woman who does not look the role of prototypical runner. You know she has poured hundreds of hours into training, likely juggling a job, kids and other commitments, to run and finish.

That’s determination. And if that isn’t inspiration, I don’t know what is.

Imagine if we all did something a little different than what we “should” do?

3) Push the boundaries.
So many people running marathons are people who never imagined “..that they could ever do it.” That they were capable of such endurance, perseverance. They allowed themselves to dream, and perhaps they had the support of others in that dream. Marathons often shed light on that great expectation of life, our potential.

What thing seems so far off right now that maybe shouldn’t be?

4) Celebrate hard work.
As we all know, dreaming is not the same as doing. People prepare themselves for months on end for every type of race. They navigate commitments, aches, pains, ice packs and days when they feel they cannot move. But when they are out on that course, we celebrate their discipline and the effort that brought them there to the start and will carry them to the finish.

Hard work shouldn’t be a bad word; it’s something we should celebrate in light of accomplishment, and for its own sake.

5) Build personal and shared motivation.
On one level, long-distance races are an individual sport — each runner works with and against himself only. But those crowds of supporters – other runners as well as those on the sidelines – are the magic sauce of motivation that alter a seemingly obvious equation. This is not zero sum. Their presence is good for each and for all of us as a whole.

We can indeed be greater than the sum of our parts.

–

Even though I didn’t know anyone injured or killed in yesterday’s blast, I still feel devastated, particularly as my thoughts go to the people impacted and their families. This was deliberate destruction brought to the foot of what should only have been a joyous and hopeful event.

As we pick up and reassemble the pieces as best we can, maybe we can use the spirit of the marathon as a guide — good will, community, and perseverance — for how we respond to tragedies like this.

As we pump our arms, so too our legs will follow.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 14 comments

At the extremes, we have two choices in life: a) sit back and be afraid of absolutely everything and never leave the couch, or b) proceed recklessly and lean blindly into situations that will likely harm us.

Or, there’s a third way. In this way we can inform fear, build courage, find awareness and open ourselves to notable experiences.

But first, a little about that awful map that’s been circulating recently.

The Danger Map of the World: Really?

If we didn’t know better, we might take a look at this map and decide to never leave the house. Or at least, never to venture outside of Europe, Australia, Botswana, the United States and New Zealand. Fine destinations indeed, but what a globe of missed travel opportunities. You mean to tell us that we should have never visited Bolivia, Iran, or Myanmar?

Source: Canadian Department of Foreign Affairs

We’ve traveled to plenty of places under the cloud of travel warnings (published by various institutions, so we’re not singling out any one governmental agency or international body) and found an on-the-ground reality that ranges from nuanced at best to a complete refutation of the principle of those color-coded travel warnings at worst.

The problem with these sorts of maps is that they are perfect media for our times: they are infographic, they are reductive and they can be slapped with a little bit of link- and title-bait to draw a nice argument. But informative? Hardly. Real information does not come in the form of color codes, and rarely can it be comprehended in the blink of an eye.

Poking around this latest map, we noticed the vast majority of countries we’ve visited the last six years are troubling shades of yellow, orange, blue and even red. Have we really been living and traveling on danger’s edge all these years? We wish we could say yes so we could write a book about how courageous we are and how we dodged bullets and kidnappers all along the way. Challenges, for sure. But alas.

Instead, we meet people, we face the ogre of hospitality and invitations into people’s homes for tea and food. Even in places with a bright red, “Avoid all travel” label like Iran. We didn’t venture into these countries blindly. We made informed decisions based on multiple sources, then mustered a little bit of courage to go and find out for ourselves.

The upshot? Consider stepping back from the government travel warnings, take them with a pinch of salt, then do a little bit of research that puts you in touch directly with someone who can provide firsthand time-relevant impressions – all with the goal of reducing your degrees of separation from the on-the-ground reality.

But before we dole out tips on how to easily do that, a break to chat about psychology.

Fear vs. Awareness

First a working definition of fear: a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined.

Are we humans naturally primed for fear? Our human macro-history roughly tells a story of continued attempted survival and struggle – avoiding dangerous animals, warring groups, physical harm. All joking aside, cultural evolution has essentially brought us to a place where we’re no longer regularly stalked by wild animals; where although sadly many on the planet are malnourished, the pervasive fear of going hungry does not plague each and every one of us; and where the near-constant threats of illness and physical harm are no longer the norm they once were.

So our visceral fear, it’s a vestige. But now we have to do something with it. In the absence of daily threats, we manufacture things to fear. Fear like water, it will find a way. Fear is so natural, it’s comfortable. Think about it. Fear requires little of us. Nowadays, we can sit back, consume someone else’s story or impression, be frightened and simply project our second-hand anxiety.

And when we do this — when we fear — we place limits and constraints on ourselves.

A show of hands please for the joy of limiting and constraining oneself.

OK, OK. Dan and Audrey, enough of the cheerleading. Sometimes our fears are substantiated.

Agreed. Let’s go there.

How is awareness different from fear?

Now a working definition of awareness: having knowledge; cognizant; informed of current developments.

In contrast to fear, awareness requires something more of us. Awareness requires effort – to step through the data barrage from multiple sources, turn it into information, synthesize it so that we begin to understand after consuming it all with a critical eye. And in doing so, perhaps we can seek out our own experiences in order to develop our own impressions.

And when we’re all done, maybe the fear remains, maybe it doesn’t. At the very least, it’s now better informed – and from there, we can make a deliberate decision instead of accepting someone else’s information as proxy.

Trust us, we’re definitely not immune from fear. Before we began this journey, Audrey worked in a news agency covering Central Asia. All the news from the region painted a grim picture of corruption, political strife, and human rights violations. In fact, Audrey was hesitant to travel to some destinations (e.g., Turkmenistan) fearing that we’d be harassed and clawing our way out of a prison by the end.

Colleagues from the region (and living locally) assured us that the situation on the ground was different. Travelers on bulletin boards and forums reinforced this. We trusted our research and decided to go and see for ourselves. To this day, our travels in Central Asia remain some of our most resonant memories.

Audrey at the market in Ashgabat, Turkmenistan.

Look, we’re not advocating taking a trip to Syria at the moment. Outside the absolutely war-ravaged and pirate infested, there’s truly a great deal of engaging open space to investigate in this world.

Informed Travel Decisions 101

OK, Dan and Audrey, I get that those maps don’t tell the whole story. I buy, perhaps reluctantly that fear and awareness are different. How do I proceed? How do I, the average ordinary traveler, go deep in my research and make local contacts without devoting a lifetime?

1. Look around you and ask. Especially if you live in a diverse city (more and more places qualify by the day), there is likely someone in your personal or work circle who knows someone from the country you are considering visiting or someone who has been there recently. You could always pose the question first on your Facebook page and go from there. You might be surprised by who comes out of the woodwork if you just ask. And don’t give up after the first inquiry yields silence. This happens sometimes.

2. Contact a blogger. Do a search and find a blog post or two about the country/region in question and send the blogger a quick email with your concerns or questions. Even better, find a local or expat blogger with lots of recent experience there. We get loads of emails on all sorts of topics and we are always happy to respond to people who have safety or travel concerns. We know how reassuring it is to talk with someone who has been there and how that perspective goes a long way to assuaging fears and informing decisions.

3. Find locals or expats on Twitter. Go to Twitter and do a search for a specific city or location under the people search. You’ll likely get a long list of people living there. See who perhaps has a blog or who is actively tweeting about that place and send them a quick note publicly via Twitter (you’ll have to set up an account if you don’t already have one) asking about safety or other issues. Avoid travel or tour companies at first, as they clearly have an economic incentive in your visit. Here’s the bonus when you go personal: you’ll likely get good local insider information for when you do go, and you might even gain a new friend.

4. Ask in forums. Post a question to an online forum asking for advice on whether a destination is safe or if there are certain areas to avoid as a visitor. In addition to travel forums (e.g., Lonely Planet Thorntree, BootsnAll), many cities have expat forums where English and other foreign languages are understood.

5. Check other government travel warnings. We know we’ve been bashing government travel warnings, but sometimes it’s reassuring to get a second (or third) opinion. If you’re from the United States, consider checking out the UK or Australian government travel warnings. Be sure to check the date when the last warning was posted to be certain that it’s still current.

6. Ask about areas to avoid. While the majority of a country might be safe for travelers, there may still be certain areas that are best avoided because of environmental disasters or violence. This does not mean, however, that the entire country should be avoided. Mexico is a perfect example of how a few areas addled with drugs and violence manage to tarnish the reputation of the whole country in the eyes of many. Our long walks across the town of Oaxaca well after midnight serve as proof that the entire country of Mexico is not under siege.

Only danger we faced during 3 months in Mexico? This clown.

—-

We Can Do Better: Travel

As we travel, people ask what we’ve learned. Everything above is part of it, but beyond that, we’ve learned that we can simply do better. Fear, color codes, news reports. A shift in any can move travel plans of masses in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes, these bits are spot on. Unfortunately, they can also be misinformed, lazy, and incomplete. These ultimately rob us of perspective, opportunity and experience. Everyone loses, travelers and host country nationals included.

We Can Do Better: Life

Whenever there’s a lesson in travel, there’s a lesson in life.

Let’s face it — fear sucks. It has a place, however limited, to prevent us from running off the cliff like lemmings. But it’s not a place from which good things like joy or confidence flow freely.

How to beat it? Aim to be informed and understand that the process of doing so requires a little effort. (After all, what in life that’s worth it doesn’t require some work?)

You’ll be surprised by the overwhelmingly positive unintended consequences of your effort. The conversations and connections alone will shift your thinking. And when you decide to act, you’ll find that informed experiential travel is one of the best ways to combat fear. But that means you have to get in it, amongst it, and occasionally press the edges of your apprehension first.

Don’t allow others to simply tell you about the way the world is when they haven’t been there. Demand better information. Go and find out for yourself. And when you do, come back and tell us all about what you’ve experienced. Keep the cycle going, keep the pump primed.

You will find all that was once unknown silently undergoing a transformation from ‘other’ and frightening to ‘us’ and simply human.

And over time, you’ll be amazed by the results. We guarantee it.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 36 comments

Celebrating our 6-year anniversary on the road in Nicaragua — with a break, a bench, a sunset.

Anniversaries, they help mark time. They remind us to remind ourselves to admire our arc, our path through the world in time. No, not to admire it in some self-satisfied way, but to admire that there’s a process of growing, changing, evolving, and continually understanding that our lives are portions of an unbroken circle connecting all the dots of who we’ve become. Anniversaries invite us to step back to view the path we’ve helped to unfold — a path that takes us from where we’ve been to where we are, all peppered with hints and imaginations of where we would hope to go.

This particular anniversary of six years passed almost without notice. “How could that happen?!” you ask?

Our response? Life. You find yourself putting together a workshop on a Nicaraguan beach, and believe it or not, you can get a little lost. Then you look up from your cup of coffee one morning and think, wait a minute, didn’t we leave a pork butt behind in Prague six years ago yesterday?

Yes, six years. Sometimes it feels like just a few days, sometimes it feels well beyond several lifetimes. You know how that feels, I’m sure.

The salad days of our journey: Koh Pha Ngan, Thailand in December, 2006

When we set off, we’d imagined 12-18 months. You could say we miscalculated, just a spec. We’ve made decisions, had discussions — some might even call them arguments (yes, we are human) — and our approach and the “why” is continually reaffirmed from within and from without.

What does that mean?

I suppose the inner compass, with all its confusions and magnetic pulls in occasionally unproductive directions, always brings us back to making our way through the world in a manner that brings meaning, meaning that is continually and surprisingly reflected back to us by others.

A Little Perspective in Three Stories

In Nicaragua, a colleague and newfound friend commented, “When we die, when we leave this Earth, we can’t take our stuff with us, we can only take our experiences, our memories.” You might say there’s no checked bags or carry-ons when we leave this life. Thank you for your spirit, Selena.

On our flight from Atlanta to Amsterdam, around hour 14 of a monster travel day, we had the good fortune to sit next to a retired career American serviceman on his way back to Afghanistan as a private contractor. He would be away from his wife and children. This was profoundly difficult, I can only imagine. It’s Christmas after all.

In any event, he’d seen so much, yet still so much struck him wide-eyed. We told him of what we’d seen and felt during so many of our trips. But when we mentioned visiting Iran last year, his eyes really opened and his jaw dropped ever so slightly. He almost hesitated to ask, “How was it? What happened?”

We shared a few stories, from the continual invitations from ordinary Iranians we met on the streets to the incredible kindness we experienced on the train from Iran to Istanbul. I even pulled out my iPhone and showed a few photos of the architectural jewels of Shiraz and Esfahan.

“The world is sometimes not as we’re told it is,” he said, continually tilting his head in wonder, shaking his head in disbelief. Thank you, Will – for your service and for reaffirming for us so much about what can be right in this world.

Finally, on just about every turn of this journey, thanks to the unnamed many who shed continual light on our good fortune with sentiments like this: “Six years, you must have been everywhere.”

Well, no. We haven’t been everywhere. And even if we had, there’s always something left on the table, notwithstanding all the changes undergone by places we’ve visited since we’ve visited them.

We thank every one of the people who echo this sentiment and remind us that there’s always more to explore and learn. They reaffirm that it’s always a good idea to unpack, if only to take a moment to take stock of what you have and what you’ve done, what remains and why you’re doing it all.

Perhaps most importantly, they imply that we should never take anything for granted.

Looking to Year Seven

Six years ago, words like “digital nomad” and “professional blogger” weren’t really in our imaginations, much less our lexicons. So our “journey” has become more than one of just travel; it has become our life, our lens, our business. Our imaginations are stretched by what is and what could be. Honestly, it can feel intimidating at times.

So what do you do when a journey and its various pieces come together as one? Recently, we took a private look back to the very beginning and reflected on why we got started on this journey in the first place to guide us — to the themes of exploration, continual learning, stories, meaning and creativity.

The world and all the things we learn, they all take time. They are delivered to us at their own pace. And if we rush too much, we run the risk of missing the little things. Likewise, if we just wait for things to happen, they may never do so.

Independent of the results, life as a process is pretty fascinating.

And just in case you are wondering: I am addicted to sentence fragments because sometimes you have to unpack and take apart what you have in order to understand what you’ve built.

It’s with this spirit that we begin our seventh year of this journey. A year we hope is one of continued surprises, shared lessons and good stories.

Thank you for being part of it.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 33 comments

In the first part of this series, The Importance of People in Travel, we explored the relationship between people and the travel experience and we spoke of serendipity and human connections. In this segment, we talk deliberate decisions and the potential impact of our travel purchases on the communities we visit, and on the world.

Goofing with local kids having breakfast in Tarija, Bolivia.

One Billion Travelers
The U.N. World Tourism Organization (UNWTO) projects that more than one billion people will cross borders for the purposes of tourism in 2012.

Think about it: one billion!

Particularly in the developing world, the potential of travelers to positively impact local communities through their tourism dollars is huge. But so is the risk of tourism development done poorly, running rampant over local cultures, local economies and the environment.

The upshot: Tourism can absolutely be a force for good, but it may also be a force for harm. Anything of such magnitude can cut both ways.

The beauty is that we travelers have a choice; we have the power to vote with our feet, to exercise the power of the purse.

Note: In September we spoke at two sustainable and ecotourism conferences (ESTC and GSTC). Earlier this year we spoke at G Adventures’ The Future of Tourism on interconnection between travel, technology, humanity and sustainable tourism. Our own words and the reaction of conference-goers underscored the grounding force in our approach to travel and the focus of our work within the tourism industry: people.

This is the second part in a series in which we focus on the connection between how travelers can align their purchasing decisions with their values and have an impact on local communities. If you missed the first part of the series, check out Tourism, It’s the People’s Business.

The Power of Travelers’ Choices
First, to the cynics. It’s easy to dismiss the weight of our purchasing decisions like our votes in political elections, to say “it doesn’t matter,” particularly in the face of our ever-busier lives. Who has time to figure it all out, after all? We can’t answer that second question — it’s up to you. But what we choose to do and how we choose to do it does matter, particularly in the aggregate.

To prove this to yourself, try an exercise. Go back through your travel memories and think about a local shopkeeper or food vendor from whom you bought something. Anywhere. Then tell me your purchase didn’t matter to them. It’s small, arguably, but it matters. Then take that effect and amplify it through all decisions and purchases — and understand that’s how the world of tourism ends up the way it does, for better or for worse.

An impromptu local snack on the streets of Srimongal, Bangladhesh

A friend recently asked after hearing us speak about making travel decisions: “Do you really make conscious decisions about where to spend your money?”

We do, but it’s not always easy.

There are the in-the-moment decisions on the ground that speak to an approach to travel and spending money locally. Then there are the decisions made, often in planning, of booking travel services and experiences. Both are an exercise in deliberate spending.

Spend Locally, Connect Locally

We think back to that visit to Myanmar (Burma). Because of a conscious decision to visit the country at that time, we were exceptionally cautious regarding where our money went during the visit. Why? Our goal was to put as much money in the hands of local people while keeping it out of the hands of the junta government.

We deliberately chose small, family-run places to stay and have meals. We tried to visit as many shops and restaurants as possible to spread around the money we’d spent. As a consequence of this approach, we met and connected with so many people, we listened to their stories and we came away not only with memorable experiences, but also ones that continue to inform our view of the country as its current sociopolitical events unfold. When we talk about Myanmar, we share the stories of people we met more than we’ll ever wax long about its stunning gilded Buddhist stupas.

A waitress at a local restaurant in Mandalay does her best not to laugh…at us.

The concept here is fundamental: when you spread your travel resources around with a focus on the community you are visiting, the more that community benefits. Perhaps that seems obvious, perhaps not.

More subtle is this: your experience will also be the better for it. Spending and connecting locally is not only about feel-good altruism, but it can also heighten and improve your overall travel experience. Ethical, responsible travel is no longer a zero sum game. We don’t have to give up anything to get something more.

A lesson in smoked bats in Bagan, Burma.

The reward is built-in. And isn’t that what we’re after?

Aligning Values with Travel Spending Decisions

The impact of our travel decisions on local economies and individual people is not only about spending money in local shops and in locally owned accommodation. It’s about voting with our feet, rewarding good product and making deliberate decisions, like choosing tours and travel experiences that reflect our values.

If technology has enabled nothing else, it has flooded us with options and information to sift through that can inform — and at times complicate and confuse — our choices. Information is a good thing, but too much of a good thing can easily overwhelm, making us feel like it’s impossible to separate the signal from the noise. Technology now allows us to read reviews, ask questions directly of companies, and connect with past customers, even in real time. By no means is this travel feedback loop foolproof, but our growing access to information provides us with more transparency and a better ability to evaluate our options and find the ones that work best in terms of our desired experience.

We recall, several years ago, searching for companies to climb volcanoes with in Nicaragua. We had ample choice of tour companies in Leon, one of the setting-off points for Nicaragua’s volcano hikes. Through social media, we found and opted to hike with Quetzal Trekkers. Their tours featured comparable options to others and were similarly priced, but 100% of the profits funded a school to support street kids. That made the difference for us, and because of that, that’s where we chose to put our money. The personal satisfaction of scaling volcanoes was rounded out by knowing that the money we spent would go to help local street kids.

Similarly, when we climbed Mount Kilimanjaro in Tanzania last year with G Adventures, we had a lot of support, as in at least three people per climber. We knew our porters were covered by insurance, wore proper gear, and were members of a fair-wage union for local porters.

Even though we didn’t see everyone who’d helped us ascend, we felt their support every step of the way up the mountain — our stuff was always waiting for us at the next resting stop, filling meals were served each night, everything worked smoothly. And while they were vested in making certain we make it safely to the top of the mountain, they were even more vested in supporting their families and sending their children to school.

Tourism executed responsibly by all involved in the chain strung together by our values, that’s what allows to complete the circle.

Sustainable Tourism: Does It Cost More?
That sustainable tourism must cost more — should cost more — is one of the great false dichotomies in modern travel marketing.

Sometimes it may cost more to get the experience you want, but it doesn’t always have to. All our experiences with horse treks, guides and yurt-stays with Community Based Tourism (CBT) in Kyrgyzstan were of similar price, if not less, than what other companies offered. The difference was that CBT Kyrgyzstan kept the money and training local.

Similarly, there are reports of plenty of “sustainable” safari experiences in Africa that don’t offer an ounce of respect, support or protection to their employees or to animals, but still cost more than comparable tours. This has to make you wonder — where exactly is that money going?

Sometimes, the rationale for the higher price tag is readily apparent. When we were in Bangladesh, it was more expensive to spend the night with a family in a Bangladeshi village as part of a homestay program rather than at a cheap hotel in town. We are as budget minded as it comes in travel, but for the experience, we’re glad to pay a reasonable difference. The rural homestay offered a unique experience whose proceeds supported a young woman’s university education and community classes teaching life skills, professional skills and awareness of environmental impact.

Girls night in: Henna hands in a Bangladesh village.

This is the tourism win-win. When we make travel purchase decisions in line with our values (i.e., we know where our money is going and whom it benefits), the resulting experiences are not only ones we feel good about, but also ones that we carry with us for the rest of our lives.

Do you think your travel purchasing decisions can make a difference? How?

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 26 comments

One bit is often missing in this discussion, however: people. Where do they fit in? How do we value our interactions with them? And ultimately, how can we align our approach and travel spending decisions with a positive impact on the communities we visit?

Before we tackle these questions, a story from Burma.

A few years ago, while visiting Myanmar (a.k.a., Burma) just after the Saffron Uprising, we stopped off at Bagan, a tourist site known for its Buddhist temple-filled plain. We took a nighttime stroll down the town’s main restaurant street in search of dinner. At the time, Bagan was a ghost town — scant traffic, save only for a few waiters milling about, passing time. Lights flickered on and off with rolling blackouts to underscore the moment.

We chose a restaurant, sat down and struck up a conversation with the owner, to whom we remarked of the empty street. He told us that tourist numbers that year had declined nearly 80-90% from the year before due to concerns about recent demonstrations. Then he reflected on his own situation, noting how the economy forced him to close another of his restaurants and let employees go.

In the midst of the silence and strings of holiday lights that hearkened a more festive time, he continued: “From the family running the guesthouse to the man renting bikes down the street, to the restaurant owner to the artist selling sand paintings — you know, tourism is the people’s business.”

Yes, tourism is the people’s business. Think about it.

At the time, we understood the restaurant owner’s point on an economic level. When tourism suffers, so do all the ordinary people – and disproportionately so — who own and staff the businesses that serve tourists.

But there’s something more to the statement. It lies in the answer to this question: Where would tourism and travel be without the people? They are the ones who get us there. They guide us, feed us, house us, interact with us and teach us something along the way.

In this way, too, tourism is the people’s business.

Note: In September we spoke at two sustainable and ecotourism conferences (ESTC and GSTC). Earlier this year we spoke at G Adventures’ The Future of Tourism on interconnection between travel, technology, humanity and sustainable tourism. Our own words and the reaction of conference-goers underscored the grounding force in our approach to travel and the focus of our work within the tourism industry: people.

This is the first part in a series, The Importance of People in Travel, the second part of which will focus on the connection between how travelers can align their purchasing decisions with their values and have an impact on local communities.

But wait. Isn’t travel about beautiful landscapes?

Often yes, but that’s not the whole story. Most of us can admit to daydreaming about travel in the form of stunning landscapes, temples and churches, all delivered with servings of delicious food and perhaps even a touch of pampering. Picture the perfect vacation photo strip.

But step back for a moment and think about the experiences that are most precious, the stories we’re likely to recall when the trip is long over. It’s those experiences that involve the people we met along the way – perhaps the pregnant Uzbek woman who gave us her lunch, the Czechs who showed us a local pub that the guidebooks never knew about, the Tajik market vendor who gave us a taste of her watermelon, or the Argentine taxi driver who dragged us into a bar to dance all night – that we tell over and over again, that exert an emotional tug on us.

Hanging with Shashi in Udaipur after her cooking class. She taught us to cook Indian food, but learning about her life was the real highlight.

It’s easy, isn’t it, to focus on the destination? But even as we appreciate the journey there, we risk missing the big takeaway – the human takeaway — just as we cross another item off the ‘ol bucket list.

Seeking the Human Dimension of Travel

When we’re asked how we meet and connect with local people everywhere we travel, we admit to having no magic answer. The orientation is pretty simple, though: understand that there are people — engaging people — all around you, many of whom are just as curious about you as you are about them.

An impromptu slideshow at a gaucho festival near Salta, Argentina.

One thing will always remain true to every reader of this article: you are human. “Master of the obvious,” you scoff. Maybe, but this fundamental understanding places you one step closer to recognizing the human characteristics we share with people who may appear very different from us on the surface. Go deeper, even in simple conversation, and you just may find that they have stories, too, and life experiences strikingly similar to yours.

Connecting with people while traveling is not about crossing an item off your list that reads “talk with a local today.” It’s about learning from others and sharing of yourself. This can be uncomfortable at first; going outside your comfort zone and questioning hard-packed assumptions often is. But this is the intersection of travel at the crossroads of personal growth.

Audrey fools while flipping Egyptian flatbread.

Here’s the rub, though. Many of these connections emerge unplanned and unscripted. They happen spontaneously. It’s not about scheduling time into your travel schedule to “meet people”, but about availing yourself of the opportunities only at the hint that they might exist.

Say what? So how to do that?

Sometimes it’s as straightforward as saying “hello” or asking a simple question — “What is this?” “How do you eat this?” “What is the local word for this?” — to break down that initial barrier. Genuine curiosity and respect will likely help take it from there.

Dan shows an interest in marbles and ends up in a pick up game with kids in Rasoun, Jordan.

Perhaps it may lead to an impromptu feast in a market in Georgia, English language lessons with Japanese school kids in Kyoto, sharing a Hookah pipe with a group of women in Iran, or being invited to a Cambodian Buddhist wedding blessing ceremony.

We open ourselves to people, to our own humanity, and the possibilities are beyond our own imaginations.

Life is a human exercise. So, too, is travel.

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What are your thoughts? How do people factor into your travel experiences?

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 34 comments

When Dan and I recall all the unusual yet universal connections we’ve uncovered throughout our travels and life experiences, we often reflect on how “we’re all more connected than we think.” However, each time we accept this maxim and settle comfortably into its implications, life surprises us once again in an odd, humbling and inspiring way.

A few weeks ago, we’d just arrived in Berlin, fresh off of speaking at the World Domination Summit (WDS) conference in Portland. Then, I received this email. The story just blew me away, but I hesitated to share it, my inner skeptic saying maybe people won’t feel it like I did. But every time I tell the story, listeners are struck.

So it’s time to share the story with you.

The only context I think you’ll need: When Dan and I left for the first chapter of our lives together abroad in November 2001, we moved from San Francisco to Prague. In slimming down to six bags, one of the many items we divested ourselves of was a maroon 1989 Honda Accord hatchback.

We are indeed that couple.

Thank you, Vina for taking time to send this email and for allowing us to publish it. To receive it meant so much to us. It took us back to a very special moment in our lives, when we were in the process of making a rather frightening life leap — moving to a new country without jobs or security of any kind.

That initial leap was the first of many that led us to where we are today.

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The lesson? Life is full of coincidence, of course. But well beyond that, if there’s no other reason to be a decent person, it might be this: you’ll make impressions and those impressions will take on a life of their own. They may last longer than you can ever imagine, and maybe they’ll come back to make you smile one day.

We are all more connected than we think.

This, I’m certain, is a good thing.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 35 comments

A reflection at the Children’s Peace Monument in Hiroshima, Japan

Michiko, our volunteer goodwill guide at the Hiroshima Peace Park, explained how her mother was a survivor of the atomic bomb. Her mother told her how, as a young girl, she ran through the rubble shortly after the bomb trying to her sister, Michiko’s aunt. Her search was in vain, her sister was dead. Michiko’s voice cracked as she relayed her mother’s stories — of the completeness of the destruction she saw everywhere, of people begging for water on the streets, some literally dying of thirst.

But as Michiko shared the story of what happened to her family in Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, she carried an even more important message for all of us today — one of peace. As she explained it, her mother instilled in her that we should all work together for peace, to prevent war, to prevent events like the atomic bomb from ever happening again.

With each mother’s wish for peace in a world that she passes on to her children, we hope we are getting one step closer to a more peaceful world.

So to our mothers who are far, far away from us today, and to all moms out there, we wish you a very Happy Mother’s Day.

Mothers from Around the World

If you don’t have a high-speed connection or you’d like to read the captions, you can view the Mother and Child, Around the World photo set.

Mothers featured in the following slideshow are from: Bangladesh, Bolivia, Burma (Myanmar), China, Ecuador, Egypt, Guatemala, India, Iran, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Mexico, Nepal, Nicaragua, Peru, Thailand, Turkmenistan and Vietnam.

Disclosure: Our trip to Japan is provided by G Adventures in cooperation with its Wanderers in Residence program. As always, the opinions expressed here are entirely our own.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 12 comments

You probably won’t see any of these women on TV or on the covers of magazines (well, maybe someday). Instead, they are the women we meet in markets, on public transport, in the shops that they run, in rural villages, on city streets. They are the everyday human landscape — mothers, grandmothers, daughters, sisters, friends, colleagues — perhaps sometimes overlooked or taken for granted. But look into their eyes, and through life and its challenges, pride prevails.

With the slideshow below, we celebrate the collective spirit of these women and the beauty of their diversity.

Women featured in the slideshow below are from: Bangladesh, Bolivia, Burma (Myanmar), China, Ecuador, Egypt, El Salvador, Greece, Guatemala, India, Iran, Jordan, Kyrgyzstan, Laos, Mexico, Nepal, Nicaragua, Paraguay, Peru, Tajikistan, Tanzania, Thailand, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan, and Vietnam.

International Women’s Day: Women from Around the World Slideshow

If you don’t have a high-speed connection or want to read the captions, you can view the Women from Around the World photo essay.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 4 comments

Our travels have taken us through places perceived – often inappropriately — as dangerous: Central Asia, the Caucasus, Burma (Myanmar), Jordan, Bangladesh. Add to that our recent travels to Iran, and to Egypt and Greece amidst protests. And now we’re in Mexico for a few months, another place high on the perceived danger meter.

Do we proceed blindly? No.

Are we adrenaline junkies, danger seekers? Not really.

We do our research, connect with locals and expats on the ground, and read reports from recent travelers. Then we go and enjoy ourselves.

We also know to take what we see on the news with a generous pinch of salt.

Why? Because our experiences on the ground have made us aware of a few reporting techniques that spice up the story of the moment while dropping a bit of the larger reality along the way.

Here are just a few.

Broad Brush (Egypt)

When there are protests or a natural disaster strikes, events are often portrayed in a way that implies that an entire region has been consumed, even if the impact is limited.

To recognize this is not to take away from the severity of the issue at hand. However, other facts – like the relative peace and safety of unaffected areas – gets lost along the way. This not only harms the image of the country and its people, but it can affect the economy, particularly when that economy depends on tourism and investment.

To look at it another way: If an earthquake or demonstration happened in San Francisco, does it make sense not to travel to New York?

Next time you consume news, be sure to have a map handy to understand the true scope and effect of the event.

Our experience: When we visited Cairo, Egypt in December 2011 during the country’s second wave of demonstrations of the year, news reports seemed to imply that the entire city was engulfed in chaos.

Visiting Al-Azhar Park in Cairo last December.

Yes, there was violence on Tahrir Square. But the affected area was tiny in comparison to a sprawling city of over 15 million people, a country of over 80 million. As we made our way in Cairo (including around Tahrir Square) and around northern Egypt, we witnessed much of life carrying on as normal – people going to work, kids going to school, roads full of traffic.

This is the bit that’s conveniently missed in a typical news cycle.

Not All Protests Are Created Equal (Greece)

Not all protests are violent. Violence just sells better.

Our experience: Our visit to the Greek island of Crete in the fall of 2011 happened amidst a wave of demonstrations and protests against austerity measures in Greece. The images coming out of Athens at the time were flame-ridden, smoke-filled and ominous. We witnessed another set of protests in Heraklion, Crete’s largest city.

Dan gets into the action during the demonstrations in Heraklion, Crete in October 2011.

Protests were lively and featured thousands of protesters who, as a rule, were hardly violent or dangerous. There may have been a few incidents, but when the protests were over, most participants retired to local cafes to hang out with friends and enjoy a frappé.

Focus on the Fringe (Iran)

“Events you see here may be staged or represent a small portion of the population.” A disclaimer we’ll never see.

To understand the real story of a country, you need to understand its ordinary people. But let’s face it — ordinary people and their viewpoints don’t sell, they aren’t flush with juicy sound bites, and they don’t make for good theater. But if you speak to them, you’re likely to realize that the issues of the day are more complex than the prevailing narrative.

And when you do that, your fear – of other people and other countries – can come into perspective.

Our experience: Our visit to Iran happened to coincide with the anniversary of the hostage taking at the American embassy in 1979. On the day of the anniversary, we wandered through the streets and markets of the town of Shiraz. We were besieged — by friendly locals offering invitations to go to the movies and for ice cream, tea and dinner.

This was the style of besieging we received when traveling as Americans in Iran.

When we turned on the TV at our hotel that night both local and international coverage focused on the anti-American demonstrations. While we wouldn’t expect media coverage of our ice cream dates in the market, a little coverage of life on the streets outside of those protests might have told a broader, more accurate story – one that made viewers think, rather than one that cemented their beliefs and fears.

When we asked a few Iranians about the demonstrations, they explained that they’re more a function of government orchestration, stacked with government employees who are required to participate for fear of losing their jobs. Sure, some people do participate voluntarily, but the government stages the rest to demonstrate “support.”

The Zoom Lens (Jordan)

“With every zoom, give me the wide angle.”

You’ve seen the images of protestors on the streets, zoomed in to illustrate anger and volume. But sometimes if the lens were to taken to a wide-angle view, you might see that only a handful of people are there. At least, you would see the context. Instead, the zoom lens makes great theater – the crowd is compressed, the protest is heating up.

Our experience: When we visited Jordan last February, the international press had covered Friday demonstrations as if they constituted the next Arab Spring uprising. For friends of ours living near the square, the protests were as they always were — not much more, not much less.

Good News Is No News (Bangladesh)

Woe the developing world. It seems as though we only hear about it when natural disaster strikes, when political upheaval is at hand.

The prevailing image of these places is that the countries are permanently suspended in calamity, in struggle. Sure those stories are relevant, but what happens in these countries before and after? What is the wider view?

Our experience: We wanted to visit Bangladesh because we suspected there was more to the country and its story than the famine, floods, and natural disasters we usually heard about. During our visit, we found a country with a youthful spirit and 150 million very curious people.

We always attracted a friendly crowd in Bangladesh.

Yes, Bangladesh is a very densely populated country facing many challenges, particularly of the environmental and political varieties. But it still manages to implement initiatives like a plastic bag ban (imagine accomplishing that in your hometown, much less a country the size of Bangladesh), electric rickshaws, and all buses and trucks using CNG (compressed natural gas). These stories rarely ever make it out and they certainly aren’t theatrical enough to control the prevailing narrative. It’s a shame since stories like this could serve as inspiration and instruction for those willing to listen.

—–
Perhaps you’re thinking, “OK, Dan and Audrey. So what?”

The upshot is that the world for the most part is not a scary place – at least not for the reasons you see on TV.

Next time you consume a news story, sit back for a moment and ask yourself: Is this the whole story? What‘s the bigger context? What are the truths, half-truths and full-on fibs? And most importantly, “What might I be missing?”

Your answer just might influence what you think about the rest of the world. And perhaps it will make you want to travel to find out for yourself.

Have your travels ever turned the news on its head?

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 60 comments

You guys are the Perception Busters.

– A comment on our Facebook page in response to our arrival in Cairo earlier this week. And a label we’re happy to embrace.

Egyptian man on the streets of Alexandria, Egypt.

If you’ve been following us on Facebook or Twitter recently, you’re probably aware that we’ve been in Egypt this past week.

Egypt? But isn’t it unsafe now?

When we shared with our friends and readers that we were headed to Egypt, we could understand their fear. After all, recent news has been full to overflowing with images — protesters and demonstrations, violence and crackdowns — pouring in from Cairo’s Tahrir Square. Based on that newsreel alone, you might be inclined to think that all of Cairo — and perhaps the whole of Egypt — is under attack and up in flames.

We’d like to offer an alternative story, straight from our experience on the streets, straight from the people we met during our first days in Egypt. We offer this not to refute the violence that has ensued on Tahrir Square, but to suggest that it’s not the only thing happening in Egypt right now, that life carries on for many in rather ordinary ways, and that visitors like us are genuinely welcomed with curiosity and warmth.

So while some people imagine we might be dodging bullets, we’re actually dodging people approaching us and giving us rounds of freshly-made bread on the street.

The Egyptians we met weren’t only warm, they were downright kind. They also wanted to ensure we were safe. “Egypt is safe for you. Just stay away from Tahrir Square,” some would say in response to our visit. But they’d finish with “Welcome to Egypt. Have a nice time.” And these weren’t people anywhere near the tourist sites, but people we happened to meet in the old town of Alexandria.

Here are just a few of their faces.

An Egyptian man takes a hookah (water pipe) break at an Alexandria cafe.

Vegetable vendor with smiling eyes on the streets near Alexandria’s catacombs.

Egyptian boy on a family flat bread run.

Friendly banter with this Egyptian man in old Alexandria.

Originally posted on the Uncornered Market travel blog. Find beautiful travel photos from around the world. | 17 comments