Susan Hurley is a blogger and advertising copywriter. After starting her career in Boston and San Francisco, she paid off her sizable student debt by following the Dave Ramsey plan and relocated to Asia last year; first Hong Kong, then Singapore, and most recently Vietnam. She doesn’t have a master plan or even a timeframe but rather, just ventures to wherever her work takes her. Please enjoy this week-in-the-life of Su Hurley, as she makes her way from Vietnam to America with pit-stops in Kuala Lumpur and Hong Kong.

Day 1

Vietnam to Malaysia

I’m glad to be leaving Vietnam today. For some reason, I didn’t make friends here like I did in Hong Kong. The expats in my neighbourhood seem strange and my coworkers keep to themselves. No one at the office goes out after work and if they do, I don’t know about it.

One huge exception is Nhung, a Vietnamese copywriter at my agency, who’s been there for me from the start. She pulls up to my place on her moped one last time, to ride with me to the Saigon airport.

While we wait for our cab, we have an in-depth discussion about why publicly picking one’s nose is perfectly fine in Vietnamese culture. As I understand it: Arm itches? Give it a scratch. Something on your knee? Brush it off. Something in your nose? Get it…get it good! The first she knew of anyone having a problem with unabashed nose picking was at her international school. The foreign teachers there would have none of it!

I’ve never been to Malaysia before. The first time I ever heard of it was in a Seinfeld episode where Elaine envies a man who got his glasses there.

After an evening flight to Kuala Lumpur, I check into the Reggae Mansion. It’s after midnight by the time I check in and the rooftop bar is in full swing. I stay up till 3am talking to two guys from Daytona, FL., Tom and Michael. They’re both engineers taking a few months off “until the money runs out”. After KL, they’re headed to Vietnam to motorbike from Hanoi to HCMC.

Day 2

Kuala Lumpur

I take a quick cab ride to Pavilion, a huge mall close to my hostel “for a meeting”. I recently stopped using the word “interview”, as it prompts well-meaning folks to dole out unsolicited job-hunting advice.

Pavilion is modern and airy, with stores ranging from Hermes and Versace to Roxy and Fossil. Like Singapore and HK, Kuala Lumpur prides itself on its great shopping. I never understood the draw. Are there that many people who enjoy trading their money for things to fill their homes and closets?

Creative Director Andrew and I meet at a café inside Pavilion, as the office is closed for Federal Territory Day, the anniversary of both KL and its territory. My connection to him is tenuous – 3 degrees of separation from a well-connected advertising friend in Singapore.

I think the meeting goes well, which usually means I won’t hear from him again. The ones that don’t go so well are the ones who usually call. Afterwards, I wander around the mall and find this curious L. Ron Hubbard display in a large bookstore. I’ve never actually seen any of his sci-fi books before. Later, I read online that Scientology’s making a concerted push to get into Malaysia and South Korea.

Back at the Reggae Mansion, I lie down for a nap as the most heavy-footed person in KL paces the floor above me.

Around dinnertime, I tag along with Cosi, a Zimbabwean from London. We walk a few blocks to Chinatown for some Indian food. Cosi ducks out for a few minutes to buy a beer from a store close by. While he’s gone, the Indian man serving us approaches me and asks if Cosi is my boyfriend. I inform him that Cosi is my husband and that we have four children together.

When Cosi gets back I let him know, “a lot happened while you were gone.” Namely, that he’s now married with four kids. Surprise!

Back at the hostel, Cosi and I talk to two Australian girls on their way to “Bemma”. I occasionally meet someone headed to a place I’ve never heard of and assume this is one of those times. I asked, “Bemma…?” She replies, “Yeah, Bemma. …Bemma. You know… Mi-yan-mah.” Oh! Burma. They’re going to Burma. I blame my lack of sleep for not catching that.

Day 3

City Tour with Mathias and Eefje

For my one full day in KL, I decide on a city tour for about $23. Throughout the tour, I stick with Mathias and Eefje, a Dutch couple taking three months off their jobs to travel Australia via camper. They’ve just started their trip and have a few days in KL before heading down under.

Eefje tells me about all the postcards she has to send, especially one to her grandmother whose 90th birthday they’ll miss. Browsing one of the gift shops, I think of how fun and unexpected it would be, for me to send her grandmother a postcard. Eefje gets to check it off the list and Oma gets a surprise from a stranger.

In a fun piece of family drama trivia, Mathias’s first kiss was with Eefje’s sister when they were both 12. While we’re at the National Palace I give her my camera and say, “Take a picture of Mathias and me like we’re a couple!” Eefje laughs, “Just don’t kiss him!” I ask, “Why, because then you’ll think I’m your sister?”

Back at the hostel, I hang out at the rooftop bar into the wee hours. An enigmatic Swedish guy, Viktor, just got back from Penang and is hanging out in KL until his Wednesday trip to Bali. He’s never been to Hong Kong, so I invite him.

Day 4

Malaysia to Hong Kong with Viktor

My new travel partner and I get an early start so he can secure a plane ticket at the KL airport. Lack of sleep makes the plane ride rather painful; luckily we have three seats between us. (Guess who gets to stretch out and sleep most of the way…)

At one point I ask Viktor, “What time is it?” Sleepily he answers, “A lot!”

After four months, it’s nice to be back in Hong Kong. I like walking down crowded streets without worrying about my camera or handbag getting snatched. I believe Hong Kong hostels to be among the worst in the world, so I budget a little extra and stay at a proper hotel, the Wharney Guang Dong in Wan Chai.

Viktor and I have dinner at Times Square with my friend, Jessica. Afterwards, we walk though a fresh food market and learn that he’s never seen a red apple. Thanks to my endorsement, he buys one and is halfway through when I see that it’s a mushy one. Now Viktor thinks that all red apples are naturally mushy.

Day 5

Breakfast with Eric

We meet my friend Eric for breakfast at the Flying Pan. He just got back from Bali and gives Viktor some helpful tips; like avoiding any taxi that’s not the actual Blue Bird taxi. Seems Bali is right there with Vietnam when it comes to taxi rip-offs.

In the afternoon I drop by an agency “for a meeting”. Creative Director James seems ready to secure me full-time for March, but we are quite far apart on salary. I’m ok with my Asia salary being less than my US salary (if I weren’t then I never would have come here.) However, in this case I’d be making less than I made during my college internship, in a city where my rent could easily be two grand a month for a studio.

James’s large cubicle is packed with boxes, papers, a stroller, various snacks, and countless other items. He’s determined to clean it before Chinese New Year, as he won’t be able to afterward, per Chinese tradition. Cleaning or cutting your hair gets rid of all the good luck the New Year just bestowed.

Day 6

Fishing Village

One of my blog followers messages me, offering to walk Viktor and me around the Lei Yue Mun fishing village here in Hong Kong. Bing moved here from Canada 24 years ago and hopes to move back to Canada in the not-so-distant future.

Bing doesn’t like that Hong Kong is never quiet. He points out the ever-present, baritone rumble coming from trucks, machinery and underground. He also can’t stand all the cigarette smoke. I shoot Viktor a look and agree, “Yes! There’s nothing worse.” Viktor claims to not smoke but I’ve seen it happen. Big non-smoking faker!

I photograph a number of stray dogs as we walk through the village. They all have sad, defeated, pathetic looks in their eyes; nothing like the bright-eyed, confident dogs of the US. The strays won’t let me get too close to them before darting away. My trick for getting them to look at me: cat impressions.

As we walk through the village, Bing shares his thoughts on how society at large favours womenfolk and warns Viktor that if he ever gets divorced, that the courts will rule in favour of his ex-wife. I’m too tired and hot to ask if Bing’s ever been divorced.

It’s February, but jeans are too warm and the heat starts to give me a mild headache. Exhausted, Viktor and I part ways with Bing and I have just enough time for an hour nap before my two back-to-back agency meetings.

My first meeting is with Creative Director Damian, an Australian who’s been here in HK for two years with a decade in China before that. We discuss Hong Kong salaries and expenses and he mentions that his rent here is four times what it was in Shanghai. “Hong Kong is just expensive.”

I ask him what the tradeoff is for living in such an expensive city. He doesn’t have an answer.

My second meeting is in the same corporate park, Taikoo Place; I meet Creative Director Philip, a Hong Konger and native Cantonese speaker who enjoys the one Cantonese phrase I can say perfectly. It means, “twenty-second floor.”

Philip tells me that if he were in my shoes, he’d get out of Hong Kong and go someplace like Shanghai. I’m getting the feeling that many of these guys live here because their families are rooted here; in-laws, kids in school, network of friends.

Even though I’ve never been there before, Shanghai is becoming a strong contender for my next destination.

Day 7

Hong Kong to America

Laura’s my seat mate from Hong Kong to Tokyo. She’s a 9th grade math teacher at a private school in Nansha, China. Originally from Charlotte, NC, we have matching debit cards from the same NC credit union.

Her harrowing tale about the Chungking Mansion (hostel) in Hong Kong reaffirms my choice to always stay at a hotel there. She speaks of unsavoury noises, dirty sheets and shady characters for a little less money than what I paid for my stay at the Wharney Guang.

The ten-hour flight across the Pacific from Tokyo to Minneapolis is no picnic. Several passengers hack and cough the entire way while toddlers take turns expressing themselves.

I turn to Dinner For Schmucks for reprieve. Wow, is that movie stupid. I thought I’d like the Lonely Planet show about the Mekong Delta, but the host is too animated and the show is clearly edited by someone with raging ADD. I switch it off just as the host addresses the camera while brushing his teeth. Few things are more irritating than listening to someone talk through a foaming mass of toothpaste.

Twenty-five hours after I checked out of my hotel in Hong Kong, my sister picks me up at the Austin airport. In two hours she’ll be hosting her weekly pub quiz, Geeks Who Drink. She invites me along and I think, “I’ve been up this long, why stop now?”

At the quiz, someone asks me if I’m jet lagged. I reply, “If you’re asking if I feel fatigued from being unable to sleep for the past 30 hours, then yes. Yes, I am.”

After visiting friends and family in Texas and California, and snowboarding in Colorado, Susan has been in Peru for two months. She is currently debating her options: Seattle, Sweden, or back to Asia. Find out what she decides by visiting her website: O hi, Asia! 

A few weeks ago I wrote about balancing managing an online business while volunteering in trade for accommodation.

But in tackling this topic I realized I put the cart before the horse; let’s first discuss how to get free accommodation by volunteering.

These are often referred to as work-trade gigs; you work a certain number of hours on the property where you are staying, in trade for free accommodation and sometimes food.

The variety of possibilities are endless. Here is a selection of work-trade volunteer gigs that I’ve enjoyed over the years:

• Milking goats in Hawaii
• Running a hostel and painting murals in Hawaii
• Tending to a country estate and B&B in Australia
• Leading eco-treks on llamas in Australia
• Cooking, cleaning, and designing promotional marketing plans at a spiritual retreat and conference centre in New Zealand
• Speaking conversational English in Spain
• Helping out on sailboats throughout the Caribbean

These were each wildly different and incredibly rewarding ways to stay somewhere for a while and live a slice of local life. Oh yeah, and get free accommodation.

Volunteer Resources

Here are a few resources for you to find your own work-trade gigs. Many carry an annual fee, but most are well worthwhile, and just one night of free accommodation will more than pay for it.

The Caretaker Gazette

This remains one of my favourite subscriptions, with worldwide work-trade opportunities that vary dramatically in nature. House-sitting positions are also often listed here.

WWOOF

World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms (WWOOF) is one of the longest standing work-trade organizations. Contrary to it’s name, it’s not all about gardening, but in order to be listed on the site, the host must have some organic component to their operation.

What I don’t like about WWOOF is that memberships are country-specific. So if you already know where you’re going: great. But if you’re open to finding opportunities in many countries, WWOOF is too limited.

Grow Food

I found my Hawaiian hostel gig through this site years ago. It’s similar to WWOOFing but with a global membership.

World Help Link

This site includes a wider range of opportunities from volunteering to teaching to interning. There are both volunteer vacations that require fees, as well as fee-free programs. I haven’t used this service but know others who have.

HelpX

This is another global work-trade site that is very popular and gets rave reviews from fellow travelers. Job postings and locations vary widely, so have a gander and see what sticks!

Tips

You can browse the listings on many of these sites before joining, so you can get a sense for whether there’s a fit with your needs and volunteer desires.

And once you’ve committed to finding a work-trade gig, cast that net wide. There is a lot of competition, and it’s not uncommon to send off many applications without even a response. I talked more about this in my latest newsletter, which you can see here (and sign up for here if you’re not subscribed).

Time Commitment

I’ve had gigs that involved little more than an hour of work a day. But for the most part, you can expect to work 20-30 hours per week. While this might seem steep (and it is, especially if you have an online business to manage), it is an immersive experience unto itself. Sometimes traveling without moving is as much – if not more – globally enlightening.

You may notice I haven’t posted any pictures of myself since the accident. Although I have pictures of the accident scene and the ensuing hospital treatments (taken for insurance purposes), they’re mostly closeups of gory wounds that even my iron-stomached friends can’t handle.

And afterwards during my long recovery, taking pictures of my sad predicament didn’t even occur to me.

Now the bandages have been removed, and my body has only scars to tell the story of what happened.

Despite these plentiful scars and injuries from the knees down, my focus is on the ongoing recovery of my head. And hair (or lack thereof).

I’m amused enough by the sight of myself now, that it’s time for a picture. Ready?

This spiffy reverse mohawk runs across the top of my head, and was cultivated by the nurse who had to shave a strip off in order to give me stitches. Now the hair defiantly reaches for the sky, much like the spiky do that kid from Jerry Maguire had. (Not a flattering look for a 36 year old woman).

It protrudes from every hair style; even ponytails and the most attentive comb-overs can’t conquer my mohawk. There’s always a disobedient tuft of hair that obtrusively pokes out.

And if that wasn’t enough, nestled in the middle of my train-wreck of a hairstyle, is a large bald spot that I believe will be a lifelong reminder of how riding a scooter can go horribly wrong.

I am forever doomed to “the comb-over”!

My partner, in his reverent empathy for me, on seeing my shaved head right after the accident, proclaimed that I am no Sinead O’Connor, nor do I ever have any business shaving my head, just in case I was considering it.

He then launched into a repertoire of Sinead O’Connor songs to bring the point home.

To this day, if one of my disobedient tufts of hair makes an appearance, I’m sure to hear “It’s been seven hours and fifteen days” ringing through the house.

Recommended Reading

Care One

Financial Experiment: The Minimalist Vacation

This is the first in a series of financial experiments: seemingly abstract exercises that are intended to reveal financial insights.

The “minimalist vacation” will help you see your home more objectively; clarifying what you need, and clearing out the rest.

Wise Bread

Spice Up The Conversation By Skipping “What Do You Do”

The next time you meet someone new, don’t do the usual and ask, “So, what do you do?” Instead, ask, “What excites you?”

Transitions Abroad

Enjoying the Journey – Embracing Travel Adventures and Misadventures

I wrote this piece ages ago, but it’s hot off the press in Transitions Abroad’s latest webzine. I think my sly editor pulled this one out of the coffers as much as a reminder to me to embrace my misadventures as it is for anybody else!

Yep, that’s me – doing the world’s highest (commercial) skydive in New Zealand

In reflecting on some of my life and travel experiences in the aftermath of my accident and wondering what’s next, I’ve realized I have quite an arsenal of experiences already.

I’ve written about reverse bucket lists yet shamefully, never committed to such an exercise myself – especially given my revelations in doing other similar exercises.

The other night while lying in bed, I found myself constructing a different kind of bucket list – one that reflects back on what I’ve done, reaches to the future, and includes ongoing items I haven’t yet ticked off to my satisfaction.

I lay there flooded with images and memories; reflecting on what I’ve done in turn fuelled my list of unchecked bucket list items, and even experiences I’ve touched on but want to explore more thoroughly. It was a no-holds-barred journey into anything and everything that excites me, with no rules and a very rewarding recap.

I encourage you to try it for yourself.

Here’s what I came up with (if you’re interested).

Done

Here are some random achievements from bucket lists gone by – “the arsenal” as it were:

Skydiving (I did it 300 or so times just to make sure it got done)

Bungee jumping (I did it in 5 locations spanning 3 countries, including the world’s highest in South Africa)

Ride a motorcycle

Conquer a cave (I managed two – one in NZ and one in Canada)

Live on a boat

Climb the Great Wall of China (I managed that one twice)

Live on a tropical island (done, done, done, and doing)

White Water Rafting (I managed the world’s highest commercially rafted waterfall – in New Zealand, of course)

Sledging (like white water rafting, but on a boogie board. Sort of.)

Have a “pet” kangaroo

Go on a multi-day backcountry camping trip (In Ukraine no less)

Meditate with Buddhist Lamas and receive their blessing

Hang Gliding (and fixed wing gliding, and I even skydived out of an ultralight powered parachute. I’m bragging, now, aren’t I? I’ll stop.)

Climb a mountain

Live in an environmentally sustainable way

Race cars (auto-cross with a 1964 Corvette)

Ride in a helicopter

Walk on a volcano

Shoot a travel tv show (I have a former career in tv, but in recent years I joined a couple of shows on the road)

Ride The Ghan and Indian Pacific trains across the Australian Outback

Travel across Canada by train (Click on the link only if you want to see my atrocious initial video attempts)

Travel across Europe by train

Travel across Asia by train

Play an instrument (I tackled four)

Conquer local delicacies

Go on safari

Take a cruise

Coming Soon

Random bucket list items I’ve yet to achieve:

Host a travel tv show (are you amused?)

Visit Maccu Piccu and/or other ancient ruins in Peru and Bolivia

Ride the “Toy Train” to Darjeeling

Climb Mount Kilimanjaro (since the accident this item has fallen waaaay down on my list of priorities. It’s hanging on to this list by its fingernails)

Trek in Patagonia

Find a friend of mine in Iceland purely through word of mouth (it’s a very small place…how many Canadian gay male nurses live in Iceland? Wait! Don’t tell me – I want to find out for myself)

Attend a Burning Man festival

Explore northern Canada (too bad it’s so cold there)

Travel across India by train

Hack my way into a Bollywood dance scene in India

Go to circus school (what for? The flying trapeze of course! Also reduced to a pipe dream at this point, but I’m hanging on to the dream)

Swim with a whale shark

Become fluent in another language

See the northern lights (without freezing to death; feasibility is debatable)

Ongoing

This is a list of things I’ve done to some extent, but want to explore further or deepen:

Stay and live in a meditation retreat or ashram

Give back through volunteering, fundraising, and however I can (I’ve had a few stabs at this (in Thailand and Australia), but there remains an ongoing desire to help whenever/wherever I can)

Fire Spinning (I learned to spin in Australia and New Zealand, and I still practice – without fire)

Perform in musical theatre (I’ve grown up on stage and done a few shows; it’s very rewarding)

Climb more mountains (despite going crazy enroute, I have an ongoing pull to the mountains)

Act in a Hollywood film (although I’ve technically ticked this item off, I wouldn’t say no to another chance…)

Sing with a jazz band (I had a few teases at this…but I’d like a repertoire)

Live as a local in foreign places (a thriving and ongoing desire)

…and last but certainly not least…

Make friends with people all over the world

What’s tops on your bucket list…past, present, and ongoing?

Last week we discussed free accommodation on boats – a great way to travel and keep your expenses low.

But gigs on boats vary dramatically in responsibility and time commitment.

If you get a paid job on a mega-yacht for example, expect to be “owned” by the boat; your time is rarely your own (but the money can be good). (Here’s how to find those jobs).

So if you’re concurrently managing an online business, forget about the paid gigs. In fact, you’ll need to choose even the volunteer gigs carefully.

Living on a boat is a hybrid between couch surfing and working in trade for accommodation.

You’re volunteering in trade for a bed, but you’re also living in very close quarters with your hosts, and often your responsibilities are simply to assist with the tasks of daily life (which are plentiful on a boat). As such, there’s a certain social expectation (as with couch surfing) that might be compromised or misunderstood if you harbour up (pun intended) in your cabin to work for hours each day.

And as with volunteer gigs, balancing your work-load and your business is rarely easy.

To complicate things further, depending on the boat’s facilities and where it’s sailing, wifi (and even power for charging laptops) could be non-existent. (Gasp).

Having said all this, don’t let me discourage you. My three months of sailing the Caribbean were among the best and freeing periods of all my full-time travels, and I was able to fulfill my working obligations as well.

Just be aware of what you need to fulfill your business obligations, and what you want out of your sailing experience.

Some resources you might find valuable in this realm:

Financial Travel Tip #78 – Free Accommodation on Boats

Financial Travel Tip #74 – Managing an Online Business and Volunteering

Financial Travel Tip #75 – Managing an Online Business and Couch Surfing

Hardie Karges is a writer, folk-art dealer, traveler, carpenter, and video-maker. He has been to 145 countries (and counting) and lived in several of them. He speaks three languages fluently and others to lesser degrees. Please enjoy this week-in-the-life of Hardie trekking through the Balkans!

Day One

I wake up early to catch the bus from Tirana, Albania to Tetovo, Macedonia. That’s the only bus that goes east toward Bulgaria. I’m trying to visit every country in the Balkans, in the process of visiting every country in the world. Going north toward Montenegro is no better. Most roads in Albania lead to Greece, but that’s where I just came from. The bus leaves from “the large muddy patch” (per guidebook description) in front of the train station, something as Balkan as byreks. The bus doesn’t look like much, but I suppose it’ll make it.

There’s another backpacker, too, hair down his back, but he doesn’t seem anxious to talk to me, “more backpacker than thou” I guess. He’s talking to the bus drivers, probably not realizing they don’t understand a word of his English. The bus finally shoves off.

Casinos line the streets, typical in former Communist countries. Washington didn’t win the war; Las Vegas did. The petrol stations are named ‘Castrati’. The chaotic streets gradually become chaotic countryside, broken bruised and beaten, and dotted by bunkers, not yet having received the coat of paint that the capital has, a splash here, a stripe there, and a mosaic in between, anything to forget the lost decades of Communist rule and the psychological misgivings that can ensue.

Somehow Nature always survives regardless of men’s mistakes. Still Albania seems a bit more broken than most, with neither plan nor order. By the time we approach the border we’re high into the hills, past 19^th century-style mining operations and failed industry.

By this time I’ve broken the ice with my fellow backpacker. Turns out he’s Croatian and a really nice guy, hardly the arrogant a**hole I’d imagined. I feel foolish, but not as much as I would have if we’d traveled the whole way unspeaking. He’s on his way to India via Istanbul and speaks good English, having practiced much in the tourist industry of Dubrovnik. His name is Mladen.

Upon reaching the border itself traffic is so clogged that we change buses to avoid long lines; big mistake. As we continue on the other side it’s soon snowing. Even Mladen looks at me and goes, “WOW!” And I’m thinking, ‘Don’t you freak out or I’ll really freak. You’re a local!’ But I don’t say anything. It’s been a long hard winter for Europe.

We make it through the snow okay, but that’s not good enough. The old bus pops a gasket or something and soon is wheezing like an old woman climbing six flights of stairs. We pull over and the driver puts on his greasy mechanic’s apron like, “I’ll show the bus who’s boss!” Yeah, right. This old bag of nuts and bolts ain’t goin’ nowhere.

So we wait and wait and wait for the company to send a van to pick us up. Mladen’s going to miss his bus to Istanbul, but that’s good for me, since he’ll continue on to Sofia, like me, instead. At this point his presence and command of All Things Slavic are very reassuring to me, particularly since we’ve become quite friendly. I realize at this point how vulnerable and insecure I am, hardly the master traveler and linguist I may come off as sometimes, to myself if not others, whether intentionally or otherwise. Down deep I’m a scared little child.

My only advantage is that I’ve been here before, lived my whole life here in fact, trembling before the vagaries of circumstance and creating new gods to save me. Bottom line: I hate that sinking feeling when you’re stuck out of luck and there’s nowhere to pass the buck. I know it well.

The bus driver finally flags down an empty van and pays the van driver to take us on into town. Hey, we could’ve done that an hour ago. That’s what we would’ve done ten years ago without cell phones and the miracles they bring. So by the time we finally limp into the station at Tetova, Macedonia, it’s dark and cold and lonely. I’m really glad Mladen is here. Maybe he’s glad, too, but I don’t ask. Guys don’t do that.

Problem is, the bus to Sofia leaves from Skopje, and that’s still an hour and another bus ride away, something I didn’t like in the original plan, and am now regretting. If you want to traipse the Balkans, bring a friend. You might need it.

We persevere on to Skopje, where there’s a bus to Sofia at midnight. So we buy tickets and have time to kill; things are looking up. It’ll be Sofia by morning, an up-and-coming tourist destination, there and Bulgaria in general. But now we’ve got three hours to kill, so we trade stories and talk trash and eat more byreks—oily pies—which Mladen explains to me are ‘real Balkan food’, as if I didn’t already know after living on them in Tirana.

At least there’s a real bus station in Skopje. That’s refreshing. But our midnight bus is late and I’m freezing outside waiting for it. I mean FREEZING! I’ve been cold for a month, but this is ridiculous!

Our bus finally shows up and we pile on quickly. Macedonia passes under our wheels, almost an entire country traversed in darkness. At least the border crossing to Bulgaria is civilized; they collect the passports then bring them back all stamped up and ready to go.

Day Two

When the bus finally pulls into Sofia the sun is rising. Mladen and I say our goodbyes and I go for a cup of espresso. It costs less than the 3-in-1 Nescafe. It’s good, too. Things are looking up.

I kill time waiting to go to my hostel. My directions use McDonalds as a landmark, but there are more than one, so I fumble around the early morning streets.

Modern Sofia never sleeps. The Bukowski Bar next to the entrance of the hostel I’ve booked is still going strong from the night before as mid-morning creeps up. The hostel is full, but they’ve got another around the corner that shares an entrance with an Irish pub, apparently presided over by a real live Irish person, or at least a Brit. That’s who the patrons are.

I’m hungry. So after starving myself in Albania, too lazy to deal with currency exchange, I gorge in Sofia, plenty of foreign exchange since the transport companies won’t take Euros, and I had to cash a wad.

Next stop is Belgrade, but regional transportation is all flakey. The bus requires a transfer in Nis. The train won’t sell tickets until the hour before the voyage (?). It seems like I’m spending all my time in Sofia at the bus station. At least the food is good.

Day Three

I decide to take the bus. By the time I get to Belgrade it’s mid-afternoon.

By now I’ve gotten wise and booked a hostel close to the bus station. The only problem is the staff’s constant cigarette smoking, but other than that it’s way cool except for the loss of privacy in a dorm.

It’s all men, too, from Germany, Australia, and one who I later find out is Mexican, from Guadalajara. He came in on the train I forewent. The G8 of international travel is now expanding to G30. I consider that proof of justice in the world. He even speaks good English. I’ll feel hurt if he rebuffs my Spanish, of course, but go for it anyway, Psycholinguistics 101.

But we’re cool, talking about things Latino into the night, fueled by the jug of decent Serbian beer being offered. I decide I like hostels; they give a safe haven and source of information to travelers and interaction with others where such is almost impossible with locals.

Day Four

Belgrade is pretty uninspiring, but not so bad. It could use a coat of paint.

They say nightlife is the big attraction, but that doesn’t much work for me any more. So I walk a lot, scouring the market for things not to buy.

This seems like a good place to drink, but I’ve already done that, so I get caught up on Internet.

Next stop is Pristina, Kosovo. Show me a former war zone and I’ll show you a travel bargain.

Day Five

I get an early start for another day of travel. A long lonely road leads from Belgrade to Kosovo, like some silly cliché being spoken for the umpteenth million time, but lending some credence to its claims of independence, regardless of the ethnicities involved. But first we go more than half way back to Nis before turning west, aggravating my ‘no backtrack’ sensibilities a bit.

At the de facto border Serbia checks me out of the country, but I don’t think I ever got checked in, just glanced at. I guess the UN doesn’t do that; only real countries do. Kosovo has still got a ways to go.

Immediately the scenery changes, though. Instead of the well-defined countryside of Serbia, with its tilled soils and trash-strewn roads and streams, we’re back into mixed town/country hodge-podge like Albania. I guess it’s part of the ethnic character of these ethnic Albanians. Is city planning hard-wired into the DNA?

I get into town after dark and get a taxi up into the hills overlooking town where ‘the professor’ runs his guesthouse/hostel. He’s a nice old man who studied engineering in the UK, doing graduate work some time back in the 70’s. Hey, wait a minute… I graduated college in the 70’s. Do I look that old? Anyway, he’s got a nice enough place with real radiated heat in the rooms. We need it; it’s cold.

Day Six

The first thing I see is snow coming down. Brrrrrr. It finally stops so I take a long walk into town.

Kosovo is a joint project between the UN and EU, keeping the Serbians at bay, the EU presence in evidence everywhere. As such it’s the largest preserve of second-language English speakers between Athens and Dubrovnik.

I’m tired of being cold, so begin to consider other options. Transportation agents just assume I’ll be returning, as if I were another UN operative, as if they’d never seen a tourist buy a one-way ticket.

The food here is good, thanks to the historic association with Islam and Ottoman Turkey. In addition to the ubiquitous kebaptores and their meaty grill smells wafting over the streets, there are gulashes and musakas and other saucier dishes that are all quite good and reasonably priced, Islamic food not unlike what are known in Asia as ‘curries’.

Day Seven

Tonight I’ll travel onward to Montenegro, so that gives me another day to kill in Pristina. No problem. I’m enjoying playing secret agent in a UN-controlled state. At the bus station some guy puts the moves on a woman sitting next to me, and won’t stop. It’s like watching the Discovery Channel.

Finally I go get on the bus, then so does he. We shove off, and soon come to the mountains. Not only do we climb the narrowest steepest mountain pass that I’ve EVER been on, it just happens to be at the border between two countries, and it just happens to be snowing at the time. Yeow! This is nothing like the little dusting Mladen and I got back in Macedonia.

This is real! Snow banks are piled up on the side of the road, plows are operating steadily, and many passages are one-lane-only. Most of the other traffic are eighteen-wheelers! Okay God, here’s the deal: just one more favor and we’re even, okay? I promise! We’ll probably make it. We usually do.

The irony is that I just spent a week to go the long way between two points that probably would’ve taken less than a day if I’d gone directly north from Tirana. I guess that’s backpacking. I guess that’s hyper-travel.

Hardie just embarked on his next major trip through South and Central Asia, covering 8-12 countries. He has published poetry, and writes blogs on travel and world music, in addition to his personal blog.

“Hypertravel: 100 Countries in 2 Years (Backpacker’s Guide to the World and the Soul),” his first full-length book, was published in January 2012. His second book, “Backpackers and Flashpackers in Western Europe: 500 Hostels in 100 Cities in 25 Countries“, the first in a series of guides to hostels worldwide, was published in December of the same year. “Backpackers and Flashpackers in Eastern Europe: 500 Hostels in 100 Cities in 25 Countries,” is due to be published early in 2013.

Follow Hardie’s latest adventures at Hypertravel and on his Facebook page.

Last week we discussed getting free accommodation with home exchanges. This week, we take to the high seas discussing free accommodation on boats.

In 2012, I spent almost three months sailing the Caribbean, living on five boats spanning three countries. I was amazed at how prevalent – and varied – gigs on boats are, and at how easy it is to tap into the nautical community and opportunities once you’re there.

It’s a lifestyle unto itself.

If you don’t have any sailing experience, no worries – I didn’t. (In fact, I got my feet wet starting with something of a fear of the great blue). It will take a little more effort to find your first gig, but there are always captains willing to train an eager volunteer apprentice.

Here’s an article that describes life on boats, and provides resources on how and where to find gigs:

How to Get Free Accommodation (and Paid Jobs) on Boats

Stay tuned next week for tips on balancing the nautical lifestyle with the responsibilities of managing an online business.

And if you want to know more about the intricacies of life on boats, here are some tales to whet (wet?) your appetite!

Getting my Feet Wet on a Sailboat in St Martin

Sailing the Caribbean (with video)

In addition to the excitement and randomness of driving in Grenada – which is really best done on a scooter – there is an orchestra of peanut gallery that lines the roadsides and makes for quite an entertaining journey.

Kissy Faces

As a white female, I attract quite a bit of attention in Grenada whether or not I want to. One of the incantations of this attention comes in the form of the following soundtrack which accompanies me when I drive around:

“Honey!”

“Baby!”

“Sweetness!”

“Love!”

“Darling!”

“Hey!”

“Can I ride wit you baby?”

“Aaahh!”

“Oooh!”

…and the ever-present kissy face sounds…

I’m not exactly sure what any of my potential suitors would do if I actually responded to their calls; as if I might jump off my scooter right there and then and leap into their arms.

And yes, I’ve been temped to do it just to see what would happen, as I suspect they’d be so surprised that it would turn into a big joke.

But I haven’t done it. (I’m too chicken).

What truly amazes me is that even when I’m on the scooter with my partner (who is a strong man you might think twice about pissing off) – the orchestra of cat calls from the roadside continues unabated!

So now my suitors’ odds are stacked significantly against them with my partner right there, yet they still feel it’s worth a try.

You’ve gotta commend their tenacity.

So we’ve found the perfect way of responding to these ever-present road-side calls:

My partner blows kisses.

Waves

But driving and riding around Grenada is a much more interactive (and pleasurable) experience than simply fending off men.

Grenada is a small island, made up of smaller communities. It doesn’t take long to become a familiar face, especially if you live outside of the major towns (as I do), and you are simply friendly and open, willing to lime, engage in some small talk, and provide a helping hand if it’s needed.

Thus, in my morning ride to the gym, I get smiles, waves, beeps, and hellos from no less than half a dozen people I know or recognize – sitting on their porches, walking along the road, manning the fruit or rum stands, or driving on the roads. And this happens wherever I go.

It’s a heartwarming experience, every time I leave the house.

The Transition

I’ve also noticed a transition recently; the ratio of kissy faces to heartfelt waves has shifted.

Instead of getting the hey-there’s-a-white-chick-on-a-scooter kissy face…

…I get the hey-there’s-that-white-chick-on-a-scooter-I-recognize wave and greeting!

It’s the little things.

Editor’s Note: I wrote this piece prior to having my scooter accident, and although I’m currently relegated to Grenada’s buses and walking, and despite the accident, I still very much loved my scooter days. 

There are many ways to get free accommodation (which we’ll continue to discuss in the coming weeks), some of which are more taxing than others.

Home exchanges, similar to house-sitting, are a lovely way to enjoy the comforts of home (somebody else’s home, that is). And if you’re leaving behind an empty place while abroad, home exchanges offer the added benefit of knowing your own home (and even your pets) are in good hands.

And don’t worry about the headache of coordinating a simultaneous exchange with people in an area you want to visit; it’s not that hard.

There are a few dozen home exchange websites, many of which coordinate exchanges that aren’t reciprocal (like 3-way exchanges), and in some cases they’ll help you earn income from renting out your home.

I haven’t tried my own hand at home exchanges (since I don’t have a home to exchange!), but I know a few travelers who do it regularly and swear by it.

Here’s all the information you could want (and possibly more) on home exchanges, along with profiles of a dozen or so different home exchange websites.

Home Exchanges: Free Accommodations With Perks

Does anybody have experience with home exchanges? Please share in the comments!

David and Veronica are experiencing the collision of Baby Boomer and Empty Nester. They decided to grab life by the horns, sell the nest, hit the road and become GypsyNesters! They’ve been full-time travelers and have been breaking the empty nest rules since 2008. Please enjoy this week-in-the-life of The GypstNesters in The Galapagos!

Day 1: Sunday

Afternoon: The tiny open-air airport is a chaotic scene since all of the flights arrive at about the same time. Dusty busses and beat-up luggage trucks round everybody up and cart them off, hopefully headed to the correct boats. We manage to get delivered to the vessel we will call home for the next week – the Yolita II – without any problems.

Quick introductions, instructions and safety procedures are covered during the short cruise to our first destination, Las Bachas Beach on the island of Santa Cruz. The moment our feet hit the sand our guide, Franklin, begins pointing out animals.

In no time at all we spot a species found only in the Galápagos, a Marine Iguana, sunning himself near the water’s edge. Their fondness for water and diving ability, a unique adaptation allowing them to find food underwater, separates these marine guys from all of their land-based cousins.

Evening: As a punctuation point to the day, a sea lion decides to take a quick break on the swim platform on the back of the Yolita II.

Day 2: Monday

We wake up anchored in Darwin’s Bay off Genovesa Island. In reality the whole island is one big crescent-shaped bay formed by the remnants of a large volcanic caldera that just clears the surface of the ocean.

Morning: In no time we are aboard the Zodiac boats and head ashore to the beach at El Barranco, where several sea lions and an unimaginable number of birds greet us. Along the trail we find both a Red-footed Booby and a Nazca Booby watching over their eggs.

In fact it seems like love is in the air, as nearly every phase of the reproductive cycle is taking place here with one species or another. The male frigates are doing their version of the singles bar scene. After all, what girl could resist a bright red inflated gular sac like that?

Afternoon: We quickly see why this is called the bird island. Multiple thousands of our feathered friends have made Genovesa Island their home. The sounds they make are as amazing as their visual displays.

WATCH (and listen): The most amazing, insanely exotic birds in the world!

Click here to watch this on YouTube.

Day 3: Tuesday

We awake a stone’s throw from the equator with the sun rising in the east just as the full moon is setting in the west. We feel really, really centered in our anchorage right at the base of Pinnacle Rock, “The Guardian of the Isles.”

Morning: We find the underwater world of these islands every bit as fascinating as above the surface. Just on this short dive we spot a Chocolate Chip Sea Star, a white-tipped reef shark, a Hog Fish, and swim through the middle of a school of Yellow-tailed Surgeonfish, named for the scalpel-like scales along their tails.

As we make our way through a maze of underwater canyons, a playful sea lion comes straight toward us, seemingly out of nowhere, then blazes past. Wow! Even better, he returns and hangs around for several minutes of frolicking.

WATCH: Veronica is treated to several minutes of frolicking with a sea lion.

Click here to watch on YouTube.

Afternoon: For our afternoon adventure we trek across the barren landscape of a very young lava flow on the island of Sanitago. Young in this case meaning about 130 years, which may sound slightly less than young, but geologically speaking that is just the blink of an eye. The molten rock flowing into the sea formed numerous types of mind boggling patterns and designs, depending on the speed of the cooling process.

The tropical sun on the black basalt flow takes a toll on Veronica.

We are happy to report that she survives to tell about another fabulous day.

Day 4: Wednesday

Morning: Our day on the island of Isabela, the largest of the Galápagos, begins at sea level, rises above the clouds, and then returns to the sea. As our beat-up bus bounces up the slopes of Volcán Sierra Negra, the scenery changes from dry, barren, lava flows to wet tropical jungle filled with exotic plants and birds, many we have never seen before.

Once the road runs out, we hike about two miles up to the rim of the active volcano. From there we look down into the caldera covered with black, freshly hardened lava from the last eruption, in 2005. That surface is still hot, warmed by the massive magma chamber just beneath it.

Afternoon: On our way back down the mountain we stop off at the Tortoise Breeding Center of Isabela, home to over three hundred Giant Tortoises. The tour of the facility takes us through the entire life cycle of these huge reptiles, going from an egg, to babies, to youngsters a few years old, then twenty to thirty year old “teenagers,” and finally the full grown big fellas, who can easily top 500 pounds and be over 100 years old.

WATCH: This is a breeding center, I guess we shouldn’t be surprised to see some breeding going on.

Click here to watch on YouTube.

Day 5: Thursday

Morning: Still anchored off Isabela Island, we take the dingy into Elizabeth Bay and immediately come upon dozens of Galápagos penguins diving and frolicking beside us while they catch their breakfast. The first sighting of what would be a day filled with close encounters of the rare species kind.

A little closer to shore we pull up to a rock where a few Blue-footed Boobies have staked out an observation post.

Afternoon: We make a wet landing at Urbina Bay, also on Isabela, jumping out of the Zodiacs into the surf, on the black sand beach of Urbina Bay and begin our search for the Galápagos Giant Tortoise in the wild. The signs of them are everywhere, their tracks and droppings, and it isn’t long before we find one of the magnificent creatures.

Day 6: Friday

Morning: We hike up a short trail to Darwin’s Lagoon. When the first pirates and sailors first found the lagoon they celebrated what they thought was the discovery of a big fresh water lake. But it turned out to be salt water, even saltier than the sea. The water seeps in from the sea to fill the lagoon and is then concentrated by evaporation.

Afternoon: The Yolita II makes her way across the narrow straight to Fernandina Island where we set foot on the youngest of the Galápagos Islands. Unbelievable numbers of Marine Iguanas seem to cover every rock, actually almost every inch, of this island.

These prehistoric looking guys are the only iguanas that can swim and dive. They have adapted to eat seaweed off of the underwater rocks because the barren lava offers almost no supply of food. Their adaptation also includes the ability to filter the salt out of sea water, so they periodically spit, or more precisely sneeze, out the excess salt while drying off after a swim.

Day 7: Saturday

Morning: We awake in Buccaneer Cove (Caleta Bucanero), Santiago Island, so named because it once served as a hideout for pirates before and after attacks on the Spanish Galleons hauling gold and silver out of Peru.

Afternoon: After a quick jaunt over to Rábida Island, the afternoon starts with our last chance to swim with the fishes. We gear up and dive in from the unusually red sand beach. For those who haven’t been keeping score, we’ve seen white, golden, black and red sand beaches in the week that we’ve been here. These are formed by the various types of volcanic rock that make up the islands, as well as the classic white sand from crushed corals and shells.

We see the usual array of amazing things – sea stars, surgeonfish, puffers, sargent majors, angel fish, but also a new guy, a Blenny, “sitting” on the rocks atop his little fins. Then Franklin calls out that he has spotted the last item on David’s list of creatures he hoped to see swimming in the ocean…the Marine Iguana. Even though we saw several thousand of them yesterday, seeing one feeding under water, then swimming back to shore, really completes our Galápagos undersea experience.

As we are coming out of the water a worried mommy sea lion is calling for its baby. Finally the baby arrives and they have a ridiculously cute reunion.

WATCH: Mommy and baby sea lion find each other!

Click here to watch on YouTube.

The GypsyNesters just returned from China, Japan and South Korea and are excited about an upcoming adventure to the Canadian Maritimes. On their way, they’ll make a stop in Toronto for TBEX in June. David and Veronica have a personal motto: The Plan is No Plans. Follow them at GypsyNester.com – you never know where they’ll turn up next!