First of all, let me reintroduce myself. Here I am. Wandering Earl.

Let me repeat, “Wandering Earl”.

It appears that more than a few people have been quite confused about my identity over this past week, often mistaking me for someone completely different. I’m not mad or anything. And even though some of you have berated me via email or twitter for what you believed was my seemingly inappropriate and irresponsible behavior, I shall not hold a grudge. After all, I do have to admit that the resemblance between myself and he who I have been mistaken for, is quite uncanny.

Let me take a moment to set the record straight…

This is me, Wandering Earl:
(don’t ask why I’m wearing that hat)

And…

This is Hurricane Earl:

Honestly, that is a different Earl. And while back in college I may have been known to ‘accidentally’ knock over a chair or table after a drink or two, I have never had it in me to wreak havoc on an entire island or coastal community, at least not with the intention of knocking out electricity, snapping trees or flooding homes.

If you need more proof…

Unlike this other Earl, who refuses to answer my email requests for him to pack up and dissipate, my overall physical strength does not increase while over large bodies of warm water and rarely do I have the time to “help maintain equilibrium in the Earth’s troposphere”. As most of you know, I’m a busy guy.

So there you have it….Hurricane Earl….Wandering Earl…not the same!

MEMORIES OF ANOTHER STORM

On another note, after watching Hurricane Earl pass through the Caribbean and head towards the East Coast of the US, I was reminded of the last major storm that I encountered during my travels. It was back in 2008 when I was in the small town of Fatehpur Sikri, India about 45 minutes outside of Agra, home to the Taj Mahal.

About two hours after I arrived in town, Fatehpur Sikri started getting pummeled by the first intense storm of the monsoon season. As a result, I was forced to hole up in a nasty guesthouse room for two straight days, with the flash floods, 80 mph winds and impenetrable dust clouds making it impossible for me to even step outside. I just sat on my bed for 48 straight hours, with no electricity or running water, and nothing to do but allow the dust flying into my room through the cracks in the window to envelop me one layer at a time. I also had no choice but to laugh as I watched cockroach after cockroach, spider after spider and rat after rat enter my room through a variety of large holes in the walls, all in search of shelter as well.

However, the storm eventually passed and when it did, I quickly stepped outside, brushed the dust out of my hair, picked the dirt from my nose, walked up to the rooftop of the guesthouse and stared out over the ancient and impressive landscape of eerily quiet palaces, tombs and mosques. The sight was absolutely unreal, as not one thing within my view indicated that I was living in the 21st century. Had someone told me it was the year 1571, I would have simply shrugged my shoulders, thought, “What a crazy dream I’ve been having about the future!” and gone looking for some dry fire wood.

AN UNEXPECTED WELCOME

After enjoying the view, I decided to visit the one place where I knew locals would begin gathering now that the storm was over. That place was a popular chai stall I had noticed upon my arrival two days earlier and as expected, it was now full of people milling about and chatting away. I ordered a chai and tried to join in the conversations, unfortunately able to offer little more than a deliberate shaking of my head to indicate my disbelief at the power of nature.

After thirty minutes or so, someone made an announcement and everyone immediately stood up. From what I gathered, it was time to start fixing the damage caused by the storm.

I joined the crowd, much to their surprise, and began wandering through the narrow lanes. We had no real destination it seemed, as the goal involved fixing any damage whatsoever that we found along the way. What I began to experience was the true definition of ‘community’ as we assisted a man in pulling his bullock-cart out of ½ meter thick mud, we bailed the water out of an elderly woman’s tiny one-room home, gathered branches to repair the roof of a small shop and placed sand-bags at one street corner in order to prevent further flooding.

If I remember correctly, we wandered around Fatehpur Sikri for about 2 hours, helping out in whatever way we could, until there was nothing else to fix. At that point, we all returned to the chai stall, drank several cups of the sweet milky concoction and nibbled on what appeared to be four-day-old samosas.

Eventually, I stood up with the intention of walking back to my guesthouse, however, one of the other men in the group grabbed me by the arm and without a word led me down the street once more. Five minutes later I found myself sitting on the floor of a basic, concrete room, surrounded by a dozen ‘cousin-brothers’ and ‘sister-cousins’, all eagerly waiting for me to begin eating the huge plate of freshly prepared channa masala (chickpeas mixed with spices) that was placed in front of me.

Initially, I had planned to stay in Fatehpur Sikri for only two days, but I ended up staying for eight days in the end. During that time, I played cricket every morning at sunrise with a group of local teenagers, I watched Bollywood movies with a dozen giggling children every afternoon and I hung out in shops, chai stalls and local eateries every evening. It was hard to leave this place, mostly because I couldn’t get over the fact that I had instantly been welcomed and treated as part of this small community.

SOMETHING TO CONSIDER

Without a doubt, signing up as a volunteer for an international or even local organization gives us the chance to really do some good in this world. But that’s certainly not the only way we can connect with a community and use our skills, knowledge or even just our two bare hands, to help improve the lives of others. Of course, I’m not saying that we should seek out places prone to natural disasters or travel at times when devastating storms are a guarantee, but inevitably, at some point during our travels we will encounter the force of nature, whether it be monsoon rains, a landslide, heat wave or anything else.

And if we happen to be caught up in such a situation, enduring nature right alongside those whose country we are visiting, this may prove to be the perfect opportunity to make a real difference. Instead of packing our bags and fleeing to the next town as soon as the storm is over, why not stay a while and offer some assistance? As with the above example, the result of such a decision is often rewarded with a sense of community that we don’t always experience as travelers constantly on the go.

Photo: Heavy Rains by Inexplicable

Over the past few months, every now and then, I’ve mentioned that I’ve been working on a variety of new projects. And while at times it seems as if some of these projects will drag on for another 30 years without ever being finished, I am thrilled to announce that one of these projects has now been completed!

So why am I even bothering to make this announcement? Well, even though I normally prefer to avoid talking about my current income-generating endeavors on my blog, this case is a little different.

This project, which has forced me to work 90 hours per week for quite some time now, has the potential to benefit some of you, or perhaps many of you, or maybe even other people that you may know.

How can I be so sure?

I base this belief on the fact that barely a day goes by without a friend, a reader or even a complete stranger, asking me the one question I love to hear:

Can you help me get a cruise ship job?

I love to hear that question because in all honestly, had I never worked on board cruise ships, there is no way I would still be traveling today. In short, with the money I saved during my 5 years as a Tour Manager on board ships, I’ve been able to gain enough freedom for me to not only continue traveling, but to spend time working on creating the life I truly want to lead.

Of course, it wasn’t all about the money. Combine the savings with the amazing friendships I made and the dozens of countries I explored as part of my job and you can understand why I’m thankful every single day for the time I spent working on board cruise ships. As a result, the mere thought of someone else experiencing the very same life-changing benefits that I’ve enjoyed, is enough to get me pumped up and ready to assist in any way possible.

LET ME INTRODUCE MY NEW PROJECT:

Yes, it’s a guide to getting a job on board cruise ships.

And if I’m allowed to say so, this guide is AWESOME! I absolutely couldn’t be happier with the results and so far, the feedback has been nothing but exceptional.

So, if working on board a cruise ship is something you, or someone you know, may be interested in, I highly recommend checking out the official site of my new guide:

Without repeating the information you’ll find on the website, all I can say is that I’m certain you won’t be disappointed (especially when you see the bonus I’m giving away as well)!

So have a look and let me know what you think. And as I’m a firm believer that working on board cruise ships is one of the most underutilized paths to freedom out there, I sincerely hope that at least a handful of you will find the finished product to be more than useful…

SPREADING THE WORD

As it’s just not my style to randomly ask people to promote something for me, I’d rather put it this way. If you believe that your blog readers, Facebook fans or Twitter followers may be interested in this material, then I would greatly appreciate any efforts to help spread the word as much as you see fit. If you don’t feel they’d benefit, that’s perfectly cool as well, no problem at all!

Also, I do offer a generous affiliate program with this product and if you’re interested in signing up as an affiliate, just send me a quick email and I’d be more than happy to walk you through the easy process of getting started.

Most importantly, if any of you are interested in a lifestyle where, as my good friend and cruise ship colleague always says, “every day is another day living the dream”, I’m more than ready to help you make that lifestyle a reality: www.HowToWorkOnACruise.com

As I gulped down my second mouthful of ocean water while struggling to get my snorkeling tube into my mouth, I suddenly heard some frantic shouting behind me. When I turned around I saw our boat captain yelling and pointing at me to put my head under the water immediately. And so I did.

This is what I saw:

That’s right, I was face to face with a 6 meter long whale shark. He was literally no more than six inches away from me and he was clearly as surprised by my sudden appearance as I was by his. With no other option but to be polite, we both made eye contact and extended a brief greeting, just as if we had run into each other while walking down the street. He acknowledged my existence with a quick wink and I tilted my head slightly downwards in a display of advance appreciation for him not tearing off my face.

With our greetings out of the way, my new pal then decided to continue on his journey while I tried to swim alongside him despite my inability to swim as fast as a whale shark. I did manage to keep him in close view for about ten seconds, after which his massive tail fin finally disappeared into the depths below.

Lifting my head out of the water, the first thing I heard was my guide yelling at me to return to the vessel, but I ignored him for a few seconds as I tried to allow my quick and surreal encounter with a massive underwater beast soak in. And then I climbed up the ladder, removed my fins and took a seat on the edge of the boat.

Over the following thirty minutes, I watched the whale sharks swim all around us as the other six people in our group had their turn at being in the water with these impressive creatures.

Then, after everyone had finished their swim, the guide asked me if I wanted another turn.

Without hesitation, I politely declined, and then spent the next thirty minutes on the boat as everyone else went back in the water once again.

WHY I DECLINED A ONCE-IN-A-LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY…

When we had arrived at the shark site, located approximately 12 kilometers off the coast of Mexico, there were a handful of small boats scattered over a large area, with about 20 people ready to swim with the whale sharks. But within ten minutes after I came out of the water, there were suddenly over 40 boats, carrying at least 250 total people, all crammed into a very small section of ocean.

Everybody there had paid for the trip and everybody had a right to be in the water, but in truth, I would never have gone on this trip myself had I known ahead of time the conditions I’d find.

After hearing stories from others, I had assumed (my first mistake!) that swimming with the whale sharks off the coast of La Isla Holbox would involve a more quiet setting, one with maybe a couple of small boats kept at a safe distance from the sharks, where we would be allowed to get into the water and observe them from a distance as well.

I had no idea that the boat captains would be maneuvering their vessels amongst each other at insane speeds in order to try and corner the whale sharks so that their passengers would have a better chance of being directly in front of them when in the water. I had no idea that the apparently not-so-strict rules that require boats to remain 20 meters away from the whale sharks would not be enforced at all.

It was quite a chaotic and dangerous scene instead, and not only for the sharks. On more than one occasion we had to yell out to our captain because he was heading straight towards a swimmer that he didn’t see or because a snorkeler was seconds away from being caught in our engine.

Basically, the combination of people, boats and whale sharks, all crisscrossing each others’ paths in a battle for position, created a situation that just didn’t sit too well with me. I can’t imagine the amount of stress that the three dozen or so sharks must experience every day while facing such an aggressive onslaught of ‘observers’. It wouldn’t be much of a shock if one of them decided to take a nibble out of a snorkeler’s arm, thus putting an end to these trips altogether and allowing themselves to migrate in peace.

My only other experience of being in the ocean with large creatures was in Hawaii during whale season, where regulations are so strict that as soon as a whale is spotted within close proximity, the boat engine is turned off. Neither a vessel nor a swimmer is allowed to be any closer than 100 yards (90 meters) to the whales at any time. Doing so results in heavy fines.

So I guess that’s what I expected on this trip as well, which is why I ended up somewhat disappointed. Of course, the fact that the boat journey to the whale shark site took 3 hours each way instead of the 1.5 hours advertised, also made the trip significantly more challenging. Throw in some heavy rain and 3-meter waves, which the ‘captain’ of our motorized row boat either failed to notice or took delight in causing long-lasting back damage to his passengers, and I was beyond joyous upon returning to the pier at La Isla Holbox.

LA ISLA HOLBOX – AS PERFECT AS IT GETS

Luckily, the island of Holbox (pronounced Hol-bosh) is as stunning a location as I’ve found in Mexico. Powdery white sands, perfect blueish-green waters and a laid-back village atmosphere made for a wonderful stay. It’s the kind of island where the hotel owners don’t care what time you check-out, there’s more hammocks than people, the locals spend their evenings eating crepes and the only vehicles allowed on the handful of sandy streets are golf-carts.

It was a little strange that lobster pizza was more common on the menus than tacos but the warm and friendly local population and lack of anything to do but relax, is a good enough reason to spend some time here. It’s the sort of isolated-from-the-world location where I could easily live for a month or two, possibly more, although my time would certainly be spent partaking in activities other than swimming with the whale sharks.

Photo: Whale Shark – Jon Hanson

Something’s telling me not to post this one, but I’m going for it anyway…

As is often the case, I was just about 90% finished with a particular post that I’d been thinking of writing for a few weeks when another idea suddenly popped into my head. And as I generally welcome random changes in plan, I’ve naturally put the original post on hold and am moving forward with this new idea.

I think the initial problem was that the post I had almost finished was somewhat on the serious side, and today, my mood is far from being serious. From the moment I woke up this morning, I’ve been a bit more goofy than normal, evident by the number of times I pretended to do the backstroke while singing my new (but old) favorite song, The Swimming Song, by Loudon Wainwright.

It goes something like this…

“This summer I went swimming, this summer I might’ve drowned, but I held my breathe, kicked my feet and moved my arms around.”

Catchy, I know.

Perhaps this odd behavior is due to spending one hour yesterday evening getting battered around by what were the largest waves I’ve ever seen in this part of Mexico. It was fun stuff of course, but one can only take getting smashed in the side of the face by a brick of water so many times before it starts to have an affect on your brain.

Or perhaps I’m feeling so jolly because it appears that tomorrow I’ll be taking off for a two-day trip to La Isla Holbox, a tiny island about four hours from Playa del Carmen, where I plan to go swimming with the whale-sharks. I don’t even know what that involves really, but I can’t wait to go and find out!

However, truth be told, while the two factors above may have contributed to my increased silliness and joyous mood today, deep down, I know the real reason.

WHAT IS TODAY?

Today, my friends, is armpit shaving day!

Ever since I was convinced to start shaving my underarms about seven years ago, my bi-weekly dates with a Gillette 3-blade razor have been permanently etched onto my mental calendar. In short, these are not dates that I’m willing to miss.

I’ll never forget my first time, which occurred so suddenly while I was working on board a cruise ship in Hawaii. One day, upon returning to the ship after a few hours of hiking around the active Kilauea Volcano, I ran into a fellow crew member on the pier, who was also a good friend of mine. After swapping stories of how we had each spent our free time that day, I happened to mention how much I stunk because of all my sweating. My friend then looked at me with what appeared to be a look of compassion, and asked, “You don’t shave your pits?”

Twenty minutes later I was back in my one-porthole cabin, standing in front of the mirror in my goldfish tank-sized bathroom, shaving away, without any hesitation whatsoever.

Just like that, my sweating problem practically disappeared, and away went my odor problem along with it. Now this might not seem like such a big deal at all, but when you spend a significant amount of your time traveling, sweat and stench play a somewhat important role. Before I started shaving my armpits, the underarms areas of my shirts were always drenched and stained with sweat within a minute of walking outside into almost any climate. Now, it takes hours for that to happen, if it even happens at all.

And while nobody has ever come up and told me directly, I can’t help but assume that the locals I meet, as well as my fellow travelers, prefer to spend time in the company of someone whose presence can not be nasally-detected from two kilometers away.

TO SUM IT ALL UP

I now spend about one minute every two weeks in order to help ensure that I….

• Smell somewhat pleasant. (Shaving doesn’t necessarily reduce underarm odor, and I’m still using deodorant, but I’m quite certain that the shaving has helped. If anyone can vouch for me, I’d appreciate it!)

• Feel cleaner and for longer periods of time.

• Feel more confident no matter where I am.

• Don’t have to replace shirts as often as I used to.

• Can pack less shirts overall.

Clearly, you can now understand what caused me to go a little nutty with excitement today. And honestly, up until a few minutes ago, I never before realized just how excited I get. You would’ve thought I had just booked a flight to some place such as Kazakhstan!

ENJOYING THE RESULTS

As soon as I finished shaving this morning, I walked out onto the balcony of my apartment, raised my arms up high into the sky, glanced to the right, glanced to the left…

Well, I then noticed that I missed a big patch of hair on the left armpit so I had to return to the shower in order to finish the job…but then….

I returned to the balcony and spent a few blissful minutes enjoying the fresh ocean breeze against the bare skin of my underarm, confident that the coming days would be sweat and odor free.

I know that this post offers little more than an unnecessary glimpse into my personal grooming habits, but this is what my wacky mood has produced. Although, I will stop short of apologizing as I’m fairly confident that this can technically be classified as a traveler’s tip!

At 4:00pm every single day for the past nine years, Francisco has slowly climbed onto a worn out bicycle seat and begun pedaling his food cart across Playa del Carmen. His journey always begins in front of his one-room home on 4th Street and always ends exactly fifty blocks away, on 104th Street, where he sets up his stand on the street corner.

Francisco is 78 years old. He’s about 5 feet tall, has skin that looks like dark leather and always wears a white baseball cap hanging loosely on top of his head. He doesn’t have any visible teeth and is always dressed in the exact same pair of pants and button down shirt, both of which are beyond repair and in need of replacements.

His small rickety food cart has barely enough space for him to serve up the one main item on his menu. It’s called esquite and is a popular Mexican snack made of hot corn kernels mixed with mayonnaise, sour cream, cheese and chili powder. I happen to like esquite very much and Francisco happens to prepare the best I’ve found, not only in Playa del Carmen, but in the entire state of Quintana Roo.

You can’t be in a rush if you want one of Francisco’s esquites, as he’s not exactly the fastest server in the world. Even when there’s a line of three or four people waiting, he moves ever so slowly, which seems to be the maximum speed that his fragile body allows. Often, he’ll just stop midway through the esquite preparation process as if lost in thought and unsure of what the next step should be.

But when he finally piles on the last scoop of chili and hands over the large plastic cup to his customers, he does so with such pride that I often find myself holding onto my esquite as if it were some delicate and treasured piece of art work.

One day I asked Francisco how he ended up as a food vendor. He answered quickly, with a hint of both sadness and humor in his voice:

“After my wife passed away, I realized that I am too old for a girlfriend. So why not sell esquite instead?”

And so every day, he rides across town, plops his plastic stool on a relatively quiet street corner and waits for customers. Occasionally, I’ve noticed him chatting with other locals, but more often than not, whenever I’ve seen him, he’s staring off into the distance or just looking straight down at the ground.

At one point, my friend and I had an idea. We decided to buy Francisco a radio so that he could at least listen to some music instead of just sitting there for so many hours without anything to do. But when we asked him why he doesn’t have a radio, he laughed for a few seconds and then said, “I don’t want one. I don’t like today’s kind of music. It doesn’t make me want to dance.”

A few days ago, when I went for an esquite, Francisco recognized me as soon as I got out of my car. He immediately stood up from his stool, waved to me a couple of times and waited for me to approach.

Normally, this is the warm reception that occurs whenever Francisco recognizes a customer, as his face lights up with a huge smile, he shakes your hand and begins chatting away. Sadly, as I’ve found out on a couple of occasions, if you don’t visit him for a week or more, he most likely won’t remember you the next time you do come around and you’ll have to start the process of becoming friends all over again.

During that visit a few days back, I noticed that Francisco was eating a bizarre-looking item of food that I had never seen before. When I asked him what the item was called, not only did he tell me, but he then insisted that I take half of his portion to try it myself. After noticing my positive reaction to what I can only describe as a yummy combination of flan and cornbread, he then took a few minutes to give me precise directions to the only place in town that sells it, despite the fact that he had two customers waiting to order an esquite.

Eventually, Francisco wished me a good night, one of those sincere farewells that clearly wasn’t an automatic response to a leaving customer. I shook his hand one more time, walked over to my car and drove back to my apartment.

And then I sat down in a chair and enjoyed every spoonful of that esquite, never forgetting the kind and generous man, whose 78-year old legs pedal 50 blocks across town every single day just so that he can sit on a stool for hours by himself, on a lonely street corner, in case I, or anyone else in the area, happens to have the sudden urge for an esquite.

Well, thanks to the wonderful advice of so many of you, I can now say that I’ve finally been spending a significant amount of time away from my computer over the past few days, and as one might expect, I haven’t felt this good in a long while. A few swims in the Caribbean Sea and a handful of abnormally long sleeps seemed to have been exactly what I needed. Even when I sit down to work I find that I’m more motivated and focused now that my body and mind have been allowed to relax a little.

However, it does appear that four straight weeks of staring at my computer all day, every day, and barely going outside during that time, has left me struggling to adapt to one aspect of Mexico – the heat.

Normally, I don’t mind the heat at all and I even tend to visit places such as India and Southeast Asia during their hottest seasons, when the temperatures typically hover around 50 C (122 F) in many parts. But these past few days have been insanely difficult.

After walking two blocks down the road, I’m already wanting to take a nap! Within seconds of venturing outside, I’m drenched in sweat, my muscles don’t want to move anymore and I’ve already chugged down the 1-liter bottle of water I’m carrying around. So do I turn around and follow my desire to just crash onto my bed and remain there for the rest of the day? No way! I certainly don’t want to exchange a habit of 90 hour work weeks for a habit of 90 hour sleep weeks, and so I push on, forcing myself to try and get comfortable in the heat.

Just don’t expect me to visit any Mayan ruins, to hike through the jungle or even walk around Playa del Carmen exploring areas that I’ve yet to explore. But that’s okay, as I can still feel as if I’m traveling and exploring Mexico, even if I don’t visit something that one would find listed in a guidebook or that’s considered a highlight of the area.

While such well-known and even lesser-known sights often play a major role of any travel itinerary, sometimes travel is just about being wherever you are and soaking up the atmosphere of a place. You don’t have to constantly be on the go in order to benefit from your travels, and in fact, I think that it’s almost vital to stop every now and then and just do something simple.

So what should you do when it’s too hot to trek up that mountain, too humid to visit those ruins or too sticky to even think about another day of sightseeing? Here’s some alternatives to consider, most of which I’ve been taking advantage of during the past few days myself:

RELAX WITH THE LOCALS: Chances are, if it’s too hot for you, many of the locals are probably looking for a way to escape the heat as well. So why not join them? Perhaps they congregate in air-conditioned cafes, hole-in-the-wall tea stalls, picnic areas in a local forest, comfy pubs, parks or maybe just a shopping center. Wherever it may be, head on over yourself, start a few conversations and keep from overheating while meeting some new people.

FIND A CINEMA: This is one of my favorite ways to get out of the heat while traveling and more often than not, even if I end up seeing a Hollywood film, I’m bound to have an entirely unique cultural experience. Whether it’s enchilada-flavored popcorn, beer included with the price of admission, plush sofa-seating or having to pass through two metal detectors and a full-body pat down before entering the theater, there’s a good chance that such an outing will prove to be more interesting than just an ordinary trip to the movies. And most of the time, the air inside the theater will be cooler than the air outside!

TAKE A LONG RIDE: Jump in a taxi, a rickshaw, a tuk-tuk, on a train, subway/metro or in a boat, hand over some money and enjoy a leisurely ride to nowhere. Who says you need an actual destination? Negotiate with the driver for an hour’s worth of riding around, so that you can just sit back and observe life around you from a different, and shade-protected, perspective. And then keep track of interesting places you pass along the way, so that on a cooler day (or during a cooler part of the day), you can spend more time exploring without fear of melting. *Perhaps this is only a good idea if you’re in a relatively inexpensive country. The cost of an hour’s taxi tour of, say, London, might force you to end your travels early!

GO FOR A SWIM: I’m always up for a swim when the temperatures soar, whether it’s in the ocean, a lake, a waterfall or just a public pool. Also, it’s normally quite easy to show up at any four or five star hotel in the town or city you’re visiting, pay for a day pass and make use of their pool and facilities. If you want something more low key (and cheaper), find a smaller hotel or even a hostel with a pool and they’ll often let you in for the day for just a few dollars. And while public pools may seem somewhat nasty at times, they do tend to offer an interesting glimpse into the lives of a local population, and even dangling your legs in the water will cool you down.

STROLL THROUGH A MARKET: Exploring a market at a leisurely pace is an exceptional way to get out of the heat, as long as you find an indoor or covered market! Roam the aisles, talk with vendors, ask questions about the strange things you find and your day will be filled with memorable moments. And remember that markets are not only for fruits and vegetables. I’ve come across massive flower markets, hand-made furniture markets, religious markets as well as markets centered around local artisans, clothes, spices, musical instruments, books and even a beer market that consisted of several hundred stalls where you could sample and purchase a variety of locally-made brews (it was in Germany of course!). The only danger of spending too much time in these markets is that you just might walk out with a funky desk lamp, colorful candle holder, triangular floor pillow, bag of curry powder and a pair of bongo drums, none of which you’ll be able to fit into your backpack/luggage.

SIGHTSEEING: I know that, originally, I mentioned sightseeing as the thing to consider avoiding when the heat is too much for most people to bear, but if you’re not like most people, this might be the perfect time to do your sightseeing. This is even more so the case if you’re the kind of person who isn’t a huge fan of large crowds. As everyone runs for the cafes, you can have a particular sight all to yourself if you don’t mind having your eyes stinging from all of the sweat! Often times, our experiences and connections to a place intensify when we are able to focus on the views, the history, the sounds and the overall atmosphere without having to push our way through noisy crowds.

And finally, there’s one more thing that you can do when you are forced to slow down due to the heat. You can do NOTHING at all. I’ve spent many a day while on the road doing not much of anything, just sitting on a balcony, swinging in a hammock or plopped comfortably on a sofa in the guesthouse I was staying in. If the heat is sucking the energy out of you, there’s no reason to feel guilty about taking a day or two or three off from your itinerary. While you’re resting up, and avoiding a sunburned face and dehydration, you can chat with the staff at the hostel, the family who runs the guesthouse or just other travelers who don’t want to venture into the heat themselves.

There’s no such thing as a wasted moment of travel and you don’t have to be taking photographs or standing in front of the Taj Mahal to consider a day of travel to be a success. So when the heat arrives, just as it has here in Playa del Carmen at the moment, why not take it slowly and focus on some of the simpler aspects of the culture you’re immersed in? There’s no shame in doing so and you just may discover that such experiences prove to be more worthwhile and rewarding than visiting the must-see sights on your list!

Photo: High Temperature

Any other suggestions you’d like to add from experience?

I’m not quite sure I can remember the last time I did what I did yesterday. To sum it all up, I did nothing at all. Honestly, up until 10:17pm last night, my day had not even existed.

After enjoying a deep, ten-hour sleep the night before, I awoke yesterday morning at 10:30am. I proceeded to take a shower and prepare myself for what has become my typical day as of late. Sitting down at the table, I turned my laptop on and began going over a mental list of things that needed to be done. However, before I even managed to log into my gmail account, something peculiar occurred. I inexplicably rose from my chair, walked over to my bed and collapsed onto the mattress.

For a few minutes, I just lay there staring at the ceiling, but eventually, and despite having just woken up from such a great sleep, I caved in and closed my eyes.

And then….I woke up at 7:15pm.

At that point, thinking that I surely had enough rest, I tried to stand up, but I failed, several times in a row, due to some slight dizziness and a complete lack of motivation to even walk. So I remained in bed for three more hours, unable to do anything but lay still.

Finally, a bit after 10:00pm, I managed to successfully rise to my feet, drink some iced tea and begin my day.

Am I ill? I don’t think so.

I’m quite sure that I was simply exhausted.

SPENDING ALL DAY WITH MY LAPTOP

Even though I’ve been living in Mexico for most of the past year, I have not spent my time here traveling around or exploring as much as I normally do. The idea of living here was to find a place where I could concentrate on my work for a while, work which involves maintaining a couple of streams of online income and attempting to create one or two more streams as well.

As a result, my daily schedule, especially during the past four weeks since my return to Mexico after a visit to the US, has involved little more than quality time with my laptop.

Working 12-16 hours per day has been the norm. Earning an online income is clearly not the result of waving a magic wand, and even after two years, I’m repeatedly shocked by how much constant effort, focus and learning is required. Nothing is ever finished, there is always more work to be done. And as soon as I think I can take a break, it’s time to write a blog post, which happens to be the activity that I love the most but which I have been able to spend the least amount of time on as of late. Couple that with the increasing number of other blogs that I love to read and sometimes I wonder how I’m even managing to find four hours to sleep each night!

Over these past four weeks, I’ve barely exercised, barely stepped foot on the beach, barely done much of anything that hasn’t been work-related. I work at home in the mornings, then I move to an air-conditioned cafe to avoid the mid-day heat and I return to my apartment once the cooler night time air arrives. I then repeat the process over and over again, seven days a week.

SHOULD I BE WORRIED?

Naturally, this style of work keeps me on the brink of complete exhaustion, which I am aware is not a healthy state of being. I know that when my arms start vibrating with electricity as if they have become an extension of my laptop, I should be a little worried. I know that when I try to fall asleep and all I can think about is html code and javascript for two hours, I should be concerned. And every time I forget to rinse the shampoo out of my hair because I was deep in thought about what color the text should be on page 76 of my new ebook, I’ll admit, I should take that as a sign to change my habits.

Yet, I continue this pattern, day in and day out…

To an extent, this method has worked well as I’ve accomplished an incredible amount over the past month – building websites, writing ebooks and generally improving my streams of income. With much of this work out of the way, I’ll be able to start concentrating more on Wandering Earl as well as my next adventure.

As a result, when I woke up yesterday morning and realized that my seemingly never-ending list of ‘work to be done’ has actually started to shrink, my mind and body decided it was finally time for me to rest. The final gate was opened and the intense exhaustion was allowed to drown the rest of me, forcing me to do nothing but lie down in bed and shut down.

WHY LIVE THIS WAY?

Well, if any of you have ever wanted something so badly that you would sacrifice certain aspects of your life in order to achieve that one goal, you’ll understand. I live and breath travel, to the point where just hearing a foreign language or using a foreign currency  is enough to bring a smile to my face. For me, the highest of highs comes from opening my door and walking out into a street so culturally different from where I grew up that my senses are instantly heightened and my mind is mesmerized, as if I were a child discovering the world for the first time.

And if such an intense month of work can help me extend my global adventure, even for an extra week or two, if it can help me continue traveling and learning and exploring this world first-hand, than I’m willing to carry on. I might have exhausted myself to the point of near collapse today, but I do so in order that tomorrow I will be able to return to India, to explore the Middle East, to continue doing what I want more than anything during my short time on this planet.

Photo: Orphan Jones

After writing my “Living Abroad for Less than $1000 per Month” post a few weeks ago, I received all sorts of interesting emails from readers. I honestly had a great time answering them and I stayed up until 3am a few nights in a row trying to respond as quickly as I possibly could!

Through all of those emails, I did happen to notice that one particular question kept popping up over and over again, and so I thought it best to answer this question as a post in the hopes that the information can benefit as many travelers as possible.

Here’s the question…

How do you find such cheap apartments all over the world?

While the answer to that question certainly isn’t anything groundbreaking, there is actually a particular method I do use that goes beyond your typical apartment hunting and lease signing. And without this method, there is no possible way I would have been able to afford the super-comfortable, perfectly-located apartments I’ve rented in such countries as Argentina, Czech Republic, Thailand and here in Mexico.

HOW MUCH COMFORT DO YOU NEED?

First, it is a fact that no matter where you go in the world, you can always find a cheap apartment. You might have to live a good distance away from the center of town or make due with a somewhat dilapidated building, leaky plumbing and moldy walls, but cheap apartments always exist. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with these places, especially for anyone interested in exploring a foreign land on an ultra-tight budget, before you hand over the first month’s rent, you might want to consider whether or not the apartment truly offers what you need.

During my early years of traveling, whenever I would search for an apartment, my idea of luxury involved having a hot water shower, reliable electricity and a bed without bedbugs. But these days, I do require a certain level of increased comfort, not so much because I’m getting older, but because I spend a good deal of time in my apartment working on my internet projects. And as anyone who spends a lot of time working on their laptop knows, an apartment that lacks natural light and requires you to sit on a concrete floor while cockroaches crawl up your shorts, doesn’t exactly help create a favorable working environment.

What does help is a comfortable chair or two, a good wi-fi connection, a secure door to enter the building (there’s nothing worse than worrying if your laptop is being stolen while you’re out exploring) and a mattress that is more than a few centimeters thick. And while we’re at it, let’s throw in a great location that allows you to walk into town or to the beach in just a few minutes!

So once again, the question is: How do you find such a place without breaking your budget?

HERE’S WHAT I DO…

After deciding on the ‘perfect neighborhood’ in the city or town I want to live in, I’ll spend a couple of days viewing as many furnished apartments as possible. I find these apartments simply by walking around, asking people if they know of any places for rent and calling the phone numbers on the “For Rent” signs that I come across. Usually, the places that interest me the most will be out of my budget, but I don’t worry about that and in a moment, you’ll see why.

As soon as I do stumble upon my ‘perfect place’, I immediately schedule a meeting to speak with the landlord/owner in person. And then, far from accepting the advertised monthly rent, I offer to pay them 60% of that amount instead.

Before giving the landlord time to reject this seemingly absurd offer, I then continue with my proposal. I quickly explain…

1….that I’m a great tenant! I don’t smoke, don’t party, don’t drink often, I don’t have pets, I’m super-clean, quiet and I mind my own business. I then offer to provide them with references from landlords of other apartments I’ve lived in.

2….that I won’t use the air-conditioner which, in many countries, will instantly reduce the landlord’s expenses by a couple hundred dollars. (It might get a little hot, but that’s nothing that a couple of cheap fans can’t fix!)

And MOST IMPORTANTLY…

3….that I’ll allow the landlord to kick me out of the apartment with as little as three days notice if they happen to find someone interested in renting the place for either a longer period of time or for more money.

At this point, I finally stop talking and wait for the reply, hoping that I’ve presented as compelling a case as needed in order to secure the deal. Sure enough, nine times out of ten, the landlord accepts the offer, especially if it happens to be low season or involving an apartment located in a neighborhood with an abundance of places for rent.

IT’S A CLEAR WIN-WIN SITUATION…

The landlord earns some money instead of having the apartment remain empty and I’m able to live in a nicer apartment than I usually could afford, for a price that is well within my budget.

A good example is the new apartment I’m living in now here in Playa del Carmen, Mexico. The advertised monthly rent was 9500 pesos (approximately $800 USD) but using the above method, I’m only paying 5500 pesos per month, or $460 USD! And this place is spitting distance from both the beach and the town center, it has two, yes two!, balconies and a bed that has secured its spot as one of the most comfortable I’ve ever slept on.

In fact, here’s my place:

It’s not overly luxurious or anything but for the excellent level of comfort that it offers, along with its prime location, this really is an absolute steal.

Also, in case you’re wondering, over the past 11 years, not one landlord has taken me up on my offer and kicked me out! But if I ever do have to leave on short notice, it’s really no big deal. I’ll simply stay at a hostel or guesthouse for a few days and repeat the process all over again…

And that’s how I find cheap, yet wonderful, apartments to live in during my world travels!

The fact that Kabul lacks anything resembling efficient planning and the fact that street signs are as common as synagogues (there is one!), naturally leads one to believe that tackling this metropolis by foot would be a foolish endeavor. Certainly it would be much easier to jump into one of the 40,000 registered taxis driving around the city, pay the ridiculously cheap fare and enjoy a comfortable ride to your next destination.

However, as any visitor to Kabul quickly discovers, one’s feet, despite the never-ending maze of nameless roads and the abundance of heavily-armed citizens, are infinitely more reliable than any local taxi you’ll find.

I learned this lesson during my first day in the city, after being forced to ride in four different taxis. The problem was that I didn’t use four different taxis to reach four different destinations. Instead, I needed the four taxis just to reach one single destination.

When I had walked out of my hotel (read this and if you’ve ever stayed in a nastier hotel, I’d love to know about it!) in the Zar Nagar section of town, I wanted to pay a visit to the Iranian Embassy. (Even though US citizens are not able to obtain independent travel visas to Iran, I figured I would give it a try anyway.) Assuming that a taxi would offer the most direct, and safest, journey across this mysterious city, I flagged down the first one I saw.

NOT AS EASY AS I THOUGHT

I jumped in and gave the driver my destination, which the manager at my hotel had written down in Persian on a scrap of paper. The driver read the note, pointed off into the distance and nodded his head several times. He then drove me three blocks down the road, stopped the vehicle, turned around, shrugged his shoulders and said “Sorry!”. When I repeated the words “Iran Embassy”, he just shrugged his shoulders one more time.

A bit confused, I climbed out of the taxi and immediately hailed another one. But this time, before I opened the door, I asked the driver, “Iran Embassy?”. He confidently repeated the words several times and invited me to sit in the front passenger seat. Then, as we approached a traffic light two minutes later, the driver stopped the car and asked me whether he should go straight, turn left or turn right at the intersection.

My reply was a blank stare, which led the driver straight into a bout of hysterical laughter. And when he finallly regained his composure, he simply threw his arms up in the air and, with a smile on his face, informed me, “You go bye bye”.

You see where this is going I’m sure.

It took me forty minutes to hail another taxi, and after being driven around in circles for twenty more minutes, I found myself being politely kicked out once again.

Finally, the fourth taxi of the day was able to take me the rest of the way to the Iranian Embassy, dropping me off exactly 90 minutes after I had left my hotel. It felt as if I had traveled across the entire country, but I later discovered that the Embassy was only 2 miles away from my hotel.

Unfortunately, my visit to the Iranian Embassy didn’t last long at all. As I crossed the street and walked toward the entrance, I stumbled straight into a group of over 500 Afghanis, all trying to storm the front door of the building despite being beaten with long wooden sticks by a handful of armed guards. Not wanting to get caught up in whatever situation was taking place, I quickly jogged off in the opposite direction.

A DECISION TO MAKE

Confused, lost and a bit on edge, I seriously considered jumping into another taxi. But after the first driver that approached me shook his head when I mentioned the name of my hotel, I decided to just start walking instead. And off I went, despite having no idea where I was going.

However, it should come as no surprise that what turned out to be a six hour walk back to Zar Nagar proved to be the most rewarding and educational day of my visit to Afghanistan. During my adventure, I met a team of workers responsible for clearing the mine fields in the heart of the city, a group of children who insisted on holding my hand and guiding me around their neighborhood, the famous ‘King Fixer of Kabul’ Wais Faizi, a woman who had started one of Kabul’s first internet cafes and a friendly travel agent who was determined to grow his business despite having lost his sight and one of his legs in a bomb explosion.

Let me just say that when I finally walked back into my hotel room that evening, I was a different person from the one who had hailed that first taxi almost nine hours earlier.

THE TAXI EXPLANATION

The following morning, as I ate a breakfast of watery spinach and mushy peas with bread, the owner of the restaurant came over and sat down next to me. We had a good conversation, especially when he explained why my taxi experience was the most common kind of taxi experience in Kabul.

Apparently, the need for taxis was quite non-existent during the days when the Taliban controlled the city as people were unable to move around too freely. When the Taliban left Kabul, taxis were suddenly in high demand as the city began to grow rapidly and its citizens now had places they needed to be taken to.

And so, just like that, hundreds of taxis appeared out of nowhere.

The only problem was that none of the drivers had any experience given the earlier absence of taxis and as a result, nobody had any clue how to get anywhere. In addition, new businesses, schools, hospitals and more were popping up all the time and there simply was no way for the taxi drivers to know the exact location of the growing list of potential destinations. Throw in the changing of street names, frequent road closures and a population that doesn’t speak a common language, and its quite understandable that taxi driver’s spend much of their time shrugging their shoulders and asking their passengers for directions.

Needless to say, during the remainder of my stay in Kabul, I walked everywhere. Every day involved getting lost, several times at least, but by the end of my visit, it seemed that I had literally explored every single street, lane and alley. And all of that walking led to even more unforgettable interactions with an endless stream of local Kabulis, which is exactly what I hoped for when I made the decision to visit Afghanistan in the first place.

Of course, when I needed to get to the airport on my final day in order to catch my flight to Delhi, I did decide to give the Kabuli taxi system one last chance. After all, I didn’t feel too enthusiastic about walking the 16 miles with my backpack on.

Yet despite what I considered to be a very clear impression of an airplane – with my arms spread out wide, my back hunched over and airplane noises shooting out from my mouth – and despite hearing “Ah-ha!”, “Yes!” and “Okay!” several different times, I ended up being dropped off on three different street corners once again. Not one taxi driver knew how to get to the only International Airport in Kabul.

Luckily, just as I began calculating how fast I would need to run in order to reach the airport in time to catch my flight, another friendly local noticed me stranded on the side of the road and offered me a ride in his beat up SUV.

Photo: Kabul with mountains