Off to Asia

Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Macau, Hong Kong. Back in two weeks. See you then.

The Cost of Commitment

The "Hallmark Holiday" is tomorrow. My condolences to you (guys especially) who must fall to the god of manufactured expectations.

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Sorry if I'm restating the obvious, but the schoolyard rhyme reminds us that after love comes marriage, and then comes baby in the baby carriage. And with the wife and kids come responsibility.

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Will Allen is a blogger, mostly about issues of business travel. His latest entry is something altogether different, though, and really highlights the importance of choosing a job and career wisely. Will your career and lifestyle choices now lead to regrets later? Allen's blog entry is a little long, though highly readable, and I'm pasting the entire thing below. I have no kids (or wife, for that matter), but if I did, I'd want to have his perspective:

Epiphany In London

In the late seventies I became a management consultant, and with that decision, I began to travel frenetically. At the time I thought of consulting as a temporary job.

A lot has happened in the thirty years since, mostly good, but I never lost the feeling that it was just a temporary job. It certainly wasn’t a career. Don’t get me wrong. There have been many rewarding aspects to the work. I’ve seen the world on consulting assignments. Sometimes the money has been good. I’ve met some of the most interesting people on the planet on consulting projects.

Nonetheless, consulting requires travel away from home a minimum of five days a week, every week. Sometimes, like the recent gig I signed up for in London, you must commit to being away from home and family for a month.

Regular readers will know that early last week I flew to London for just that job, leaving my wife and two young kids behind. But the London project did not work out for me, and I’m back. Why I am back may be worth knowing to you if you travel constantly, as I have for three decades, especially if you have a family at home and care about them.

I arrived in London last Tuesday morning. By Wednesday morning I had not slept since Sunday night due to worry and concern over being away from my family exacerbated by jetlag. I suddenly became aware that I was excruciatingly unhappy.

Had I known that I would be so miserable being away from my family, I would never have accepted the gig, of course. In earlier years before my wife and I had children, I wouldn’t have given such an extended absence from home (27 days) a second thought.

Suffering from severe sleep deprivation, I discussed the situation with my lead colleague on Wednesday morning early. We both agreed that it would not work for him or for me, and it wasn’t best for the client. Though we had client intro and fact-gathering meetings scheduled last week, the analysis didn’t officially begin until Monday the 11th, and there was time to replace me.

I have always loved consulting work per se, and I still do. But suddenly I realized while sleepless in that London Hilton room that I just can’t be away from my kids for a month without going home.

I didn’t know how strongly I felt about that until I got to London and could not sleep. If you read my blog often, you will remember my post a couple of weeks ago entitled, “Dread.” The dread I felt was about more than subjecting myself again to being beat up in the travel system; it was especially about being away from my kids.

The consulting firm I’d contracted with also muddied the waters the week previous to my travels when they called me out of the blue with a second offer—and then suddenly withdrew it—to lead a consulting project for a new railroad client in Florida. When they offered it, I expressed my strong interest, citing my expertise in rail and deep experience with white collar reorganizations, which is that company’s issue.

I also emphasized my strong preference to remain in the United States so that I could be home every weekend with my family. The U.K. work was strictly business process mapping, and while I do have lots of that experience, so do many others. The rail/reorg experience combo, however, was a much different and rarer requirement. I therefore agreed to the London gig reluctantly, which I realize now—too late—didn't help matters.

I’m not making excuses or pleading for forgiveness. I made a commitment to go work in London for a month, and I backed out once I got there. The politest thing I can say about my action is that it was “inconvenient” that I experienced the epiphany once there, instead of before I left, that being with my kids is more important to me than being absent from them for a month.

It was certainly inconvenient for them to have to scramble for a sudden replacement, and it was an extremely costly decision for me, since the consulting firm will not now reimburse me for any of my substantial expenses to get there, to reside in London at a Hilton, and to get home.

Be that as it may, last week’s extraordinary experience is a life-changing turning point. I don’t want to be away from my family that long ever again. This is a revelation to me. It may seem obvious to others, but it wasn’t to me, until now.

I am completely at peace with my decision last week to come home. Even in immediate hindsight, I recognize that it was foolish of me to think I could be away that long. Old habits die hard. I thought I could do what I’d been doing for thirty years, and I can’t, not any more. Having my kids has changed everything.

A little background is in order to put this into sharper perspective: I took off about half of 2007 because I could afford it (for awhile). I wanted to see what life would be like at home every week. Honestly, I didn’t know.

I found the adjustment to being at home difficult at first last year. Though my wife and I have a strong bond, I frequently felt like a stranger in the house. Her frantic routines to balance her professional career as a research sociologist and our two kids’ school and extracurricular activities were constructed of the necessity to act as a single parent during the five days each week that I had been gone for years. Frankly, from Monday to Friday each week I was in the way and unappreciated for the first few months.

Gradually, my wife and I retooled child responsibilities such as after-school activities (soccer, basketball, swim team, piano lessons, Chinese lessons, etc.); meal preparation for breakfasts and dinners; doctor appointments and emergency response to child sickness; homework monitoring and assistance; and coaching the kids in their own daily chores (bed-making, garbage-emptying, table-setting, dishwashing, pet feeding and pet care, yard work, etc.). I took over the myriad of tiny but persistent headaches, like keeping the vehicles licensed, inspected, maintained and filled with fuel. Home repairs and upkeep also fell to me. And so on.

Over time my wife became far happier, and so did I! I found the rhythms of our new routines suited me, to my great surprise.

I have especially enjoyed the immense amount of time spent with both my kids. Our son is in the third grade (age 9), and our daughter starts Kindergarten in the fall (age 4). I love every minute I am with them! They fight to have me lie down with them each night and to talk before they drift off to sleep. Their sleep problems and behavior issues, while low-grade, have all but disappeared with me home. My wife is not over-stressed and grouchy any more; she is, instead, happy. Two weeks ago I was here when we taught our daughter to ride her bike without training wheels.

I’d been missing all these things, and many more, by being away all week, every week. But just exactly what I was missing was abstract to me until I stayed home and immersed myself in my family’s lives. I could justify being away, despite my own persistent stress and a nagging feeling that I was missing something important, because it wasn’t concrete for me until I became involved.

Why I didn’t see that the last six months of 2007 had changed me I don’t know. It seems obvious now.

Thus I should not have agreed to take the gig in London because of the long absence. I had become much more “normal” than I realized during my time at home last year, and it took a kick in the teeth like going to London and facing four weeks without them to come to grips with it.

Even though I will keep my hat in the consulting ring (for stateside travel only), I intend now, with the sharpened focus of my needs gained suddenly from the experience this week, to look hard for something interesting locally.

I’ve written often since I began this blog about my desire to stop flying so much, because the whole experience can be so difficult these days. Looking back on every post now, I can see my blog was borne of this need, and I am just reaching the point in my journey where the end may be in sight.

This blog’s header, lamenting how airlines routinely rob us of it, says, “Time is all we have… .” I finally grasped last week in London that I want to spend more of the time I have remaining on this rock with my family rather than alone in some hotel room. That knowledge was worth the price.

What Kind Of Traveler Are You?

Something without implications for metaphysics or public policy, for a change . . .

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Here's a 3-minute test I just found about about that tells you which of six "travel personalities" applies to you. It will tell you what kinds of vacations will appeal to you, and what won't.

I took the test, and I'd say 80% of my travel personality description ("Mid-Venturer") is exactly spot-on for how I like to travel. Seems this could be a good diagnostic for figuring out whom (or whom not) to take trips with.

So here's the test. Click on the "Plog Travel Personality Quiz" (at the top center of the linked page). You can just ignore the part later that asks for your name and e-mail; it'll still give you the results without it. If you take the test, and are brave enough to post a reply, I'd be curious to know:

• What's your type, according to the results?
• How accurate is the description? (Really, Somewhat, Dunno, Not So Much, Not At All)

Rome Roam

I'm off Friday with my roommate Eric for two weeks in Naples, Rome, and the little country of Malta. If Vesuvius doesn't blow, we'll be back on the 20th . . . and maybe shortly after that, I can get back to this blogging thing. There are so many things I want to write about, and if I don't do it, who's going to tell you the truth about global warming?

Coming or Going

I've been doing a lot of traveling lately, for both business and pleasure. Maybe too much. Earlier this morning, I pulled an itinerary out of my briefcase marked, "9/20 ORD" and asked myself, "Why am I going to Chicago on the 20th?" The scary part is that it took me maybe 20 long seconds to recall the purpose of this trip. Could be a sign of excessive travel! Or early Alzheimer's.

Here are a couple things I've been thinking about while traveling:

I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet
At ATL, I avoid the shuttle train between the concourses and take the moving sidewalks, instead. It's an attempt to compensate for a lack of exercise in my daily life. I've been on and off these moving sidewalks so many times that I don't need to think about the transitions from "ground not moving" to "ground moving" to "ground not moving." But here's the kicker: every now and then, one of the moving sidewalks won't be moving. And usually, I'll walk on it, anyway, just for fun. And you know what's weird? I usually lurch getting on and off. My brain is so accustomed to having that piece of metal beneath my feet moving that it doesn't adjust well to the times it's not moving. It used to be that I could close my eyes a few steps before the beginning or the end of the dormant sidewalk and make the transition seamlessly, but lately when I've tried that, I stumble, anyway. Apparently, my brain is now calculating the distance and preparing for the transition even without the proximate visual cues.

I'm sure there's a spiritual lesson somewhere in here about learning to deal with life a certain way and not transitioning well to new realities, but frankly, I'm more interested in the physio-cognitive aspects of this phenomenon. Brains are amazing things.

Vogue, Glamour, Elle, GQ, . . . and Then There's Us
A recent poll of 1500 European hotel managers (see pages 2-3) reported that Americans are the 2nd best overall travelers, behind the Japanese, and the most generous tippers by far. One category that stands out, based on my own recent and upcoming travels, is Best Dressed. The Italians win this one, by far, followed by the French and Spanish. I'm planning to go to Italy next month, so maybe I'll pick up a few duds while I'm there. And perhaps I need to: the Worst Dressed in the poll were the Americans, by far. I've done my own survey on my last couple airport trips, and I have to agree. Just go to the airport and try to find someone dressed with any sense of style. When you do, it'll most likely be a foreigner. What is it about America that requires us to look like slobs when we go out in public? Why is comfort our highest value, and why are we so aesthetically clueless? Is there any connection between poor fasion and poor architecture and poor city design? Is it a coincidence that some of the world's best architecture is in Italy and France, the countries where the people dress the best?

That's all for now. I need to go pack for tomorrow's trip.

Are You a Tourist, or a Traveler?

When you travel to foreign lands, are you a tourist or a traveler? Do you like the tour bus, the five-star hotel or resort, the Michelin-rated restaurants? Or do you check out the public transport, sleep where you have to carry your own bags to the room, and eat more like the average locals?

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There's something to be said for both, I suppose. But if your trip consists mainly of snapping photos through the tour bus window, why not just stay home and watch the Travel Channel?

One of the most memorable hotels I've stayed in was in Istanbul, across the plaza from the Blue Mosque. The shower flooded the toilet, my friend and I had to share a bed, and we were jolted awake every morning at 5:00 by the call to prayer. Memorable bus trips include a city-to-city bus in Cote d'Ivoire with the African music blaring at ear-splitting decibels, another bus in Cameroon which was so packed I could barely move for 3+ hours (and my friend couldn't move even his foot), and a "city" bus in Zanzibar that was a pickup with benches and a canvas roof (and a freshly-caught stingray on the roof). Then there was the memorable ferry ride in Tanzania where they handed out barf bags before departure and a goodly number of the passengers actually had to use them. The airplane flight in Nepal where the lady threw up on me. The open-air, streetside restaurant in Cairo with fresh-grilled meats, local families chilling, and cats milling about our feet hoping for leftovers. The accidental concerts where I poked my head into a church and somebody was rehearsing (or getting married).

OK, I admit that I prefer a clean, quiet hotel room with facilities, and I don't cotton to being barfed on while flying or compressed and roasted on a bus. But I agree with the sentiments below, expressed by Arthur Frommer, founder of the Frommer's tour books. We learn more as travelers than we do as tourists.

Here's an excerpt from the interview with Frommer, or you can read the whole interview here:

Q: Why did you focus on budget travel?
AF: As a soldier traveling in Europe on a Pfc's pay, I discovered that not only was budget travel possible but that it was preferable; that it was a better form of travel. It enabled you to enjoy the authentic aspects of the cities you were visiting and to remove yourself from the artificial world of tourism.

There was a day in Paris when I was traveling on my own, before I did the GI's Guide, and I was sitting in a sidewalk café writing letters home, nursing a little glass of wine for several hours -- to enable me to keep sitting at that café. I looked up and saw a motor coach of forty or so American tourists passing by with everyone's noses pressed to the glass looking out at the life of Paris from the inside of the bus. At that moment, I realized that the difference between them and me was that they had money and I had no money -- and because I had no money, I was having the time of my life. That if I'd had any money, I would not be sitting at an exotic cafe, meeting Parisians and involving myself in the life of Paris ... I would be in that bus, having a second-rate experience.

I suddenly realized that when you travel, the less you spend, the more you enjoy. The experience is better. And I held onto that lesson and will go to my grave still advocating it. That's the love for budget travel which underlies Europe on 5 Dollars a Day.

Q: What was the biggest challenge travelers faced around the time that Europe on 5 Dollars a Day was published?
AF: It was overcoming the advice given to the American traveler, that Europe was a "once in a lifetime" visit that had to be accomplished in the grand manner. The idea that you took several suitcases, you went there for a lengthy trip, you lived only in first class hotels, that you could not possibly hazard staying in a hotel of second-class quality. The idea that you would be eaten up alive by bedbugs in war-torn Europe. People were being told at that time by the entire American travel industry that there was only one way to travel in Europe and that was first-class.

Q: What do you feel is the biggest challenge facing travelers today?
AF: The biggest challenge is keeping travel authentic. Getting away from the tourist mill. Returning to the basic elements of travel and tourism. Going like a traveler, not like a tourist. Not bringing the United States with you, but remaining open to new ideas, new surroundings, new lifestyles, and new approaches to life. Listening instead of talking.

The biggest problem today is that whole vast areas of travel have been taken over by people who have commercialized the activity and made it more and more difficult to experience the authentic aspects of the travel experience.

Q: In the fifty years you've been involved in travel publishing, what has been your biggest surprise?
AF: It has been the invasion of an intellectual activity by people who regard travel as a trivial recreation and not as a learning experience. The great majority of the professional travel industry -- the tour operators, the hotels, the cruises -- treat travel as simply a form of entertainment. I have always believed that travel is the best form of learning and that it affects the mind in a way that no other activity -- even that of widespread reading -- can possibly do, and that, therefore, it has become an essential part of a civilized life.