Memories (and the People who Helped Form Them)

Spurred by the writing of my next book about my years on the road, I find myself wandering the halls of memory reminiscing about my last decade of travel.

I dig through old photos and journal entries. I search Facebook for people I met years ago. Stories and faces long forgotten zoom back into my mind as I wonder where they are and what they are doing.

Those whose lives briefly intersected with my own on the highway of life.

The five backpackers who inspired my original trip. The girl from that hostel in Prague who welcomed me into her friend group when I was too afraid to say hello. The Dutch guys I spent weeks traveling with in Australia. The motley crew I spent a month with in New Zealand. My friends from when I lived in Bangkok. The folks I picked up on my road trip across the states. My first Couchsurfing host. Or this group of crazy cats I spent a month in paradise with:

As strangers in a distant land, we were each other’s support. We were the best of friends, partners in crime, and sometime lovers.

Yet, as we all wander further along life’s path and cast our head backwards, we notice each other’s light fading like a star being snuffed out, until one day, it’s gone and nothing but dust remains.

What happened to the folks I hitched with in Iceland?

Where are all these people now?

Where are the Spaniards from Valencia who I partied with in Florence?

What happened to Lennart, the guy I played poker with in Amsterdam?

Does Jen, a German girl and my first relationship on the road, still live in Australia?

Where is that American couple from Bocas del Toro whose information I forgot to write down?

Where are those people I met in Thailand that inspired me to quit my job?

Those folks I live with at that hostel in Taiwan with?

I met these folks in Thailand and visited them in Bordeaux. I remember this perfect day – a journey to beach, sunset on this sand dune, and a wine and cheese dinner. But where are they now? I know not.

Where are the countless others I spent days, hours, and minutes with in hostels around the world? The ones who wandered unfamiliar streets, partied into the night, broke bread and laughed with me?

What are they doing? Do they still travel? Did they make it all the way around the world like they hoped? Are they happy? Married? Do they like their jobs? Are they healthy? Are they even alive?

And do they have similar thoughts?

Do they think about the people they met? Do they come across a photo on Facebook, sit back, and get lost in memory?

These guys made me realize I worked too much when I traveled….and I don’t remember their names.

Is there someone out there right now telling that tale about a crazy night in Prague and including me in it?

Wandering your past is like wandering a minefield of emotion – joy, excitement, sadness, regret. There are so many people I miss and wonder about. I know it’s foolish to think that everyone will stay in your life forever. People come, people go. Growing apart is a fact of life. People, life, and situations change. This is true for any aspect of life.

What happened to these cool dudes??

But that doesn’t make me wonder any less.

Our paths may not intersect again and the memory of them may fade (really, what was the name of that couple from Bocas?), but their effect on my life will remain with me forever. They taught me to let go, laugh, love, be more adventurous, push myself, and so much more. My life is better because they were in it.

One day, far from now, I’ll look back again and more lights will have faded. I’ll again wonder where they went. And, like a time traveler, I’ll zoom back to the moments we had, relive them in my mind, and imagine a happy future for my friend where all his or her dreams came as true as mine.

Maybe they too are staring out at the sky and thinking the same.

Maybe they’re telling their friend/loved one/kid, “There was this one time….”, remembering me, and saying “That was a cool guy. I hope life is treating him well.”

As we go our separate ways on this long twisting journey, maybe that’s as much as one can really hope for.

Why Pretentious Travelers Suck (And What I Do About Them)

Nothing irks me more than people disparaging people’s travel choices. I don’t get why people do it. The whole “traveler vs. tourist” argument, talking about what makes someone a “real traveler,” and making fun of people’s routes — people waste so much energy trying to lift themselves up above others. Isn’t travel supposed to make you open-minded?

I do this for me. This is all my journey. I’m not in a race for the most countries visited, street stalls eaten at, or festivals attended. I do what makes me happy, even if it’s some “touristy” destination.

There isn’t a single “authentic” version of travel. Getting off the beaten path, finding some hidden island, or living with some guy in a yurt in Mongolia don’t make someone a better traveler than anyone else. It just means your itinerary and experience were different.

I’ve been riled up about this for quite some time and decided to make a video about this subject. Here’s how I really feel and what I think you should do when you meet a pretentious, judgmental traveler (also notice the new introduction! Spiffy, huh?):

(Want more travel videos? Subscribe to my YouTube channel here and get free videos!)

So go where you want. Do what you want. See what you want. Eat where you want. Maybe I’ll disagree, maybe I’ll try to get you to do something else, but, as Sheryl Crow said, if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad — and at the end of the day, I’m just happy you left the house. That’s all I care about.

The next time someone starts harping on your travel choices or giving you grief, turn the conversation around on them. Tell them part of being a traveler is being open-minded and if they can’t respect your choice, the conversation is over. Call them out on their crap.

And then walk away.

It’s your trip. Don’t let people ruin it.

Why I'm Moving to Sweden, Trust, and Practicing What I Preach

Posted: 02/21/2012 | February 21st, 2012

I poke. I push. I prod. I try to get people out of their cubicles and traveling the world. That’s what I do. That’s my thing. I show others that traveling doesn’t have to be expensive, that anyone can do it, and that your fears are unfounded. I try to be a living example of that. Judging by the emails I get from people, I think I’m successful at getting people onto airplanes and into the world.

But last month, I faced a fork in the road about what to do when my trip ends: do I move to New York City right away or do I move to Sweden for six months? Once you go down a path, there’s no turning back, and I was very torn on what to choose.

But I decided to choose Sweden.

The guiding principle in my life is no regrets. I don’t want to be on my deathbed saying, “I wish I did…” and I think that if I didn’t move to Sweden, I’d always regret it. I’d always wonder what might have been. What would life have been like if just for a moment I finally got to live in Europe? What possibilities and opportunities did I pass up?

So in July, I’ll be getting on a plane to Stockholm, where I’ll stay until January >when my book is released. I’d leave sooner, but I have some conferences and plans in the United States that I need to attend in the meantime.

As I lay awake one night, I realized that if I didn’t move to Sweden, not only would I regret it, but I’d also be a hypocrite. After all, instead of facing my fears and reservations, I’d be taking the easy road. New York is easy. I know it, I’ve lived there, I have friends there. I don’t need to worry about visas, languages, or anything else. New York would be the easy, comfortable choice.

Instead of breaking out of my comfort zone, I’d be staying firmly in it. And if I did that, how could I ever again tell people to break out of their own comfort zones?

All you have to judge me by are the blogs I write and the information I share. Based on what I present, you decide if I’m trustworthy enough to listen to. I trust Trey Radcliff when it comes to photography because of his amazing photos, the fact that he only promotes the products he would actually use, and the people and news sources that vouch for him. I trust he knows what he is talking about.

And trust is the currency of the Internet.

I can’t tell people to conquer their fears, live their dreams, and travel the world if I won’t even do that for myself. With so many sketchy websites these days, trust is in short supply. All you have online is your credibility.

So late at night, I thought about all the emails I get from the people who have told me I’ve inspired them to take a trip. I thought about all the messages from the people whose fears I’ve helped vanquish. I thought of all the people who told me a blog post was exactly what they needed.

And then I thought about how deep down I knew I wanted to move to Sweden. There was nothing I wanted more. I want to learn the language, eat the food, meet the people, and explore the countryside. New York can wait six months. I’ll miss it, but it will always be there. Yet if there was no doubt in my mind, how come there was doubt in my mind?

Because I was too scared to make the leap and commit. It was easier to stay in my comfort zone. It always is. But I realized that I’ve helped so many people take a deep breath, close their eyes, and just go for it that not doing it when it came for my own turn would make me a hypocrite.

And that realization removed my doubt and made me commit.

And so in July, I’ll move to Sweden. It may be great. It may be awful. I may come home early or I may stay forever. But at the very least I’ll have practiced what I preached. I can wake up every day knowing that I did what I tell others to do: I seized the day, conquered my fears, and leaped into the unknown.

Because if I didn’t do that, I’d be a hypocrite.

And I’d never be able to look at myself the same way again.

The Evolution of a Long Term Traveler

Posted: 04/29/2014 | April 29th, 2014

There are downsides to long-term travel: the five-hour friends, the quick relationships, the solitude that leads to loneliness. It’s not all rainbows and unicorns.

But then nothing ever is.

Despite those occasional downsides, I think long-term solo travel is something people should try at least once in their life. Even if you don’t like it, try it — it will teach you a lot about yourself. It’s made me a far better and more awesome person, and I’ll go to the grave preaching its gospel.

But a couple weeks ago, I came home to NYC and created balance in my life. In finding that balance, I’ve come to a stark realization: I am no longer a long-term traveler.

The thought of spending extended time on the road doesn’t fill me with as much excitement anymore.

A month or two of solid travel? Sure.

More than that? No thanks.

I like having a home. I like this website and the work involved with it. I like having a stable set of friends. I like traveling around the country talking about travel and helping others.

Spending extended time on the road makes it hard to accomplish what I want to do with my life now. Everything suffers if I try to cram in too much stuff into the work/life/travel mix.

I still dream about travel all the time…literally.

When I’m asleep and dreaming, it’s usually about travel. I recently had such a vivid dream about losing my passport, I jolted out of bed and ran to where it was to make sure it was still there! (It was.)

Years ago, I wondered if it was possible to travel for too long. Back then, I didn’t know. I was four years into my travels, and the sky was the limit.

Four years later, I think the answer is yes, you can.

At least, I can.

I’ll never give up travel, but right now, extended trips are a thing of the past. The road may never end, but now I want an off-ramp and a rest station before I continue on it.

Long-term travel suited my lifestyle for a long time, but while I’m now even more passionate about travel, travel is not the only thing I want from my life.

As I said last week, there has to be balance.

Maybe one day, I’ll meet someone who will say to me, “Let’s spend five months wandering around Africa!” I’ll look at them and say, “Let’s spend six.”

But as I write this today, I look in the mirror and no longer see a long-term traveler, just a backpacking, budget one.

We get used to a certain way of life, and it becomes hard to change. Whether it’s cubicle life or life on the road, we identify with something. It becomes part of who we are.

What happens when I’m not nomadic? What happens to me?

There’s a quote that says, “A ship is safe in harbor, but that’s not what ships are for.” My harbor is the road. It’s my comfort zone.

But as I soon enter my thirty-third year of living, I no longer cling to that. It’s been two years since I wrote about “the end of my travels,” but I’ve finally come to terms with what I wrote there.

And I couldn’t be happier.

Continue reading with these posts:

How to Travel the World on $50 a Day

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My Mom Says This Blog is Boring

Last month, my mom told me she thought this blog was boring. “Where’s all the fun stuff? I want to see more photos of you traveling. I don’t care about these other updates.”

“Mom, I live in Austin now. You know I’m not on the road that much,” I replied.

“I know but still….I want to see more stuff. It’s just much more interesting, honey.”

“Ok, Mom,” I say and move the conversation on.

But you know what? She’s right (shhhhh, don’t tell her I said that). This website has gotten a little boring.

There aren’t many new adventures, photos of exotic destinations, and exciting stories from the road being posted, because, well, I’m pretty non-nomadic these days. I spent more time in the US last year than I did abroad.

I feel this way every few years, though. “It’s OK,” I think to myself, “I’ll be on the road again, and there will be new content, stories, and tips for my website.”

But lately, as I’ve come to terms with my move from nomadic to more stationary, that’s no longer true. Last year, I only did two big trips, and after I return home from my current winter adventure in New Zealand, it’s doubtful I’ll take another trip until the summer.

Even if my mom doesn’t like it, I’ve come to terms with this change.

Maybe one day, I’ll sling on my backpack and a few weeks will again turn into a few years. The future is unwritten.

But, after vacillating so long between staying and going, I’m pretty happy being “stationary Matt.” I’m currently writing a new book. I signed up for Swedish and cooking classes, and I’d like a relationship that lasts pasts my next international flight.

So, as I put down roots, I’m left at a crossroads with this website.

Travel is what I do — and I’m blessed that I get to share my stories and tips with everyone here. It’s amazing meeting people on road who tell me that this website inspired their trip, saved them money, or helped them improve their life. It’s truly amazing in every sense of the way.

But I’m not nomadic anymore. The kids you see on Instagram or YouTube channel filming crazy videos can take up the nomad mantel. I’m going to sit home, write, practice my Svenska, figure out how not to overcook my dinner, and read a book.

So where does that leave us? Is this my “it’s not you, it’s me” breakup post?

No.

While “the nomad” is now just “the traveler,” I am not going anywhere.

While I’ll still blog because I like to write and am never short of ideas, updates won’t be as regular as they were in the past. Instead, I’ve decided to turn this site from primarily a blog into primarily a travel resource. There’s big plans afoot to spruce up, expand, and refresh every single page on this website.

This year has another focus and that is community. I want to use this platform to connect travelers with each other. We are going to launch a major, major, major meet-up program in a few weeks so people can meet each other while learning about travel. There will be local chapters, events, speakers, and gatherings, workshops, and getaways. Plus, I’m organizing a conference for the fall.

There will be also more videos, webinars, FB lives, and Q&As. My YouTube channel is coming back. I’ll be interacting more on social media, sharing people’s stories, and answering your questions.

The team and I are committed to using this giant platform to bring people together, highlight community members, and find fun ways to take what we have online and bring it into the real world. We’re going to be a lot more social this year!

***

When I started this website, there were always stories to share. I was always on the move. Forever the nomad I thought to myself.

But life is not static. The person I was and the wants I had at 25 are not the same at 36.

I’m not done traveling. Far from it. I love every trip I take. There will still be how-to blogs and travel stories — just not as many.

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to serve travelers.

So while the “blog” will be a semi-ghost town, the community and resource part of this website will be more active and larger than ever. My goal is to expand the reach of the “cheaper, better, smarter” philosophy and turn more people into travelers.

So, yes, Mom, the blog may be boring, but so much more is happening this year than just a blog about Thailand.

And that makes me (and I hope you) excited for what’s to come!

P.S. – If you’re in New Zealand, I’m having a meet up on January 23rd in Queenstown. You can sign by clicking here!

How Messy Should You Leave a Hotel Room? (Video)

Lizzie Post, the great-great granddaughter of Emily Post, author, and co-host of The Awesome Etiquette Podcast, has agreed to weigh in on a few travel etiquette questions from a politesse perspective. She’s covered airplane seat backs, to recline or not to recline, arm rests, and kids on flights. She’s weighed in on short-term rental etiquette, and here turns her attention to hotels. She told us how much to tip; now she tells us how much mess is acceptable!

Jim Corwin / Alamy Stock Photo

How messy or clean should hotel guests leave a room? Should they, say, strip the sheets?

“Nope, that’s totally up to them; that’s what they do.”

How much of an effort should a guest make?

“I do what they ask me to do; if they ask me to put towels on the floor, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll make sure they’re in a pile on the floor together, easy to pick up. If I had a lot of takeout or food in the garbage, I’ll try to pack it up and throw it away [elsewhere]. I don’t try to strip the bed or remake it because I know they’re going to strip it anyways. You could do that, but you don’t have to. I try to make sure the furniture is back where it’s supposed to be; I try to make it look somewhat like it looked like when I walked into it.”

If you leave a big mess, does that affect how much you should tip?

“Then I would tip more. If I can’t leave things in relatively good shape—sure, I might use every towel in the bathroom—but if I’m leaving spills or messes or the sorts of things you hear about celebrities doing, then I’d leave a tip, a really big tip. … [It also] really depends on you and who you are and what your wallet’s like.”

Alex Van Buren is a writer living in Brooklyn, New York. Follow her on Twitter and Instagram @alexvanburen.