If I had to choose a career all over again then ‘travel journalism‘ would have been close to, if not on the top of the list. But life throws you curve balls and growing up in a third world country, the concept of travel journalism was not on the radar of any well-meaning school guidance counselor or hard-working parent!
The travel bug bit early and bit deeply. Subconsciously a career spanning 30 years included lots of travel. My partner-in-crime and wife shares the passion to pack bags. Our daughter has more passport stamps than money. Two shelves in the garage are dedicated to camping equipment. The attic is pretty much filled with discarded suitcases, backpacks and bags. You get the picture.
It all started with my very first flight experience back in 1976. In a C-130 military cargo plane heading to the war zone in Angola. Noisy, shaky and uncomfortable webbing for seats. No windows. Boot camp was over, and the rubber hit the road to the battlefields. And so did the landing wheels with a squeak. I was in my element in that metal tin can!
Later, as a student leader I had to organize an official ‘education tour’ to shape young college minds and expose them to the wonders of the world. We loaded a 60-seater Fokker from Swaziland Airlines (no kidding), full of semi-drunken students to the sunny shores of Mauritius – that idyllic Indian Ocean Island, to continue the debauchery and cultural experience of colored sands and Playboy magazines (which were banned in our home country).
Few came back unchanged, and I was one of those. I met a French couple with two kids and had an hour’s conversation with their ten-year old son, in fluent English, where he described the places and sights they have been to – at 10! Shortly after I was reading a Chinese proverb that said, “A thousand miles traveled is better than 10,000 words read“.
And that was it! The next stop was backpack shopping and a Eurail ticket through Europe for a month with my first year’s salary. Frommer’s “Europe on $25 a Day” was our bible and train hopping became an art. So did dealing with passport officials traveling on a passport from an embargoed country. Oh, the memories…
Here we are now, a 65+ male, and still reading travel magazines and dreaming of distant shores beyond the reaches of my wallet. But we do take flight, by car or plane as often as possible, and the hope is that you will enjoy these journeys with us.
