The Accidental Traveler

Posted: 05/28/2013 | May 28th, 2013

I can count on one hand all the places I visited before I was 23. Travel wasn’t part of my upbringing. It wasn’t something my family did outside of the occasional road trip to visit my grandmother in Florida.

In college, I skipped studying abroad because I was afraid I might miss something. I went to Montreal twice, because when you’re under 21 and can’t afford spring break in Cancún, Montreal is the closest place to go when you live in Boston. It wasn’t until I was 23 that I left North America to visit Costa Rica, and I only did that because that’s what I thought you were supposed to do when you work. With two weeks of vacation a year, you’re supposed to go somewhere and have fun, right? It wasn’t that I had a burning desire to travel; it was just something I thought I had to do.

But that trip to Costa Rica changed my whole life. After that, I was hooked. I was in love. I was addicted. I needed to travel in my life.

A couple of months ago, I told this story during a radio interview and the host called me an accidental traveler.

I liked that phrase. The accidental traveler.

I’d never thought about it that way before, but it’s fitting.

In the beginning, I had no burning desire to travel; it was just something that happened. Travel became part of my life only as an afterthought. I never woke up wanting to be nomadic.

Being called an accidental traveler made me think about the journeys we take as people.

Are they deliberate, or do they just happen? How many times do we discover our journey only while we’re in the middle of it?

I think about the journey I’ve taken. It began first as a simple desire to travel more, then changed to a stronger desire to take a gap year, and then became wanting to travel forever. I fell into travel writing as a way to make that happen.

Now I can’t imagine doing anything else with my life.

Each step, each twist and turn, happened without any prior planning or thinking. In the words of Robert Frost, “way leads on to way.”

I found my path only while I was on it.

My mind sometimes goes back to when I was 23 and in Costa Rica. What made Costa Rica so special was that it showed me I could live life on my own terms. Travel allowed me to do what I wanted when I wanted. It made every day Saturday and filled it with endless possibility.

I think of my friend Chris Guillebeau, who recently finished his journey to visit all the countries in the world before his 35th birthday, and how he described his journey as one that evolved over time:

You want to see a couple of countries.

Then a couple more.

One day you wake up, and you’re on a quest to see every country in the world.

Just like one day, you wake up, and you realize you’ve become a world traveler.

You don’t know how it happened. You can’t really pinpoint the exact moment you or your life changed.

But it did.

Your one-year plan turns into 18 months, then 36 months, and then, suddenly, you’re celebrating five years on the road.

You’re a traveler. It’s in your blood. It’s who you are.

And you sit and write this in your favorite coffee shop in NYC, reflect on how you got here, think about all the other big moments in your life, and realize that the best ones all happened as accidents.

And as you get ready to travel again, you realize that sometimes just falling into something can be the best thing to happen to you.

One day, you set out on a path, and the road twists and turns, and you think you’re still on that same path until you stop and rest. Then you look around and realize you’re not where you intended to be, but someplace even better.

Then there, in this new world, as you get ready to celebrate being another year older, you come to the conclusion that no plan might be the best plan, and you’re happy letting life’s accidents lead the way.

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Why I Became a Solo Female Traveler

Posted: 09/10/2014 | September 10th, 2014

Last month, I announced I’d be bringing monthly columnists to this website. On the second Wednesday of the month, Kristin Addis from Be My Travel Muse will be here to give you great tips and advice on solo female travel. Her column starts this month. Let’s get to know her!

I sat on the beach in Cambodia, amazed that a white sand beach so pristine still existed in the world. There were no towering resorts or people with fancy drinks with umbrellas walking by. It was virtually empty. This was my second week traveling alone. I bought my one-way ticket to Southeast Asia, and, sitting on this beach, I knew I made the right decision.

I never did a lot of traveling when I was younger and certainly had never backpacked alone — or, really, at all. Four years earlier, I’d lived in Taiwan as a language student for eight months. After coming home and getting a full-time job like I thought I was supposed to, I couldn’t shake my desire to return to Asia. In those days of longing, I never imagined I’d eventually take off on an open-ended trip that I’m still on two years later.

So why did I quit my job to travel the world?

Even though I was professionally successful, I wasn’t happy. My cubicle felt restrictive. The job paid well, but I found that the money wasn’t enough to justify spending my twenties supporting someone else’s dream. I felt like something was missing. I needed adventure, and I couldn’t shake my desire to get back to Asia. But I wasn’t sure how to make it happen.

I spent years yearning for freedom, heavy with research into far-off places that seemed so removed from any reality I could imagine for myself. I scoured the Internet for some kind of inspiration. Was it possible to travel long-term without a trust fund? Could women really travel alone safely? I knew nobody else who could just quit his or her life and join me, so the only way was to go it alone.

The more I read online, the more I realized it was possible and the more the dream became a permanent resident in my mind. The desire became so huge, it was often the only thing I could think about. Quitting my job and selling all of my stuff was exactly what I needed to do to get back to Asia, so I hatched a plan and followed it.

The thoughts in my head echoed my friends’ concerns. Am I crazy to be venturing off alone? I wondered. Will I shoot myself in the foot financially and professionally? Will it be safe? Will I be lonely all the time? Will I have regrets?

But I knew that the biggest regret of all would have been to stay in a situation I wasn’t happy with: a world of fancy cars, high rent, and designer clothes that somehow never managed to bring me the joy I’d been promised.

I didn’t believe in the “American dream” anymore. I didn’t want a mortgage, a white picket fence, 2.5 children, and a cat named Fluffy. In August 2012, I listed everything I owned on Craigslist and sold it off in the span of one week, then promptly ended my lease and moved out of my apartment. In September, shaking in my shoes, I boarded the plane to Bangkok, without so much as a room booked when I landed.

Sitting on that beach in Cambodia, it felt like I had reached the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. What had I been so afraid of? It all turned out to be simple, safe, and easy.

I’ve traveled solo through every country in Southeast Asia while falling in love with the culture and food. I’ve hung out of doors of trains chugging past cascading rice paddies in Sri Lanka, dived with whale sharks in the Maldives, trekked over 100 miles in Nepal while carrying all of my own gear, and hitchhiked alone through China.

These experiences helped me figure out how to find the less-visited places, how to get invited into people’s homes in order to experience the true local culture, and how to delve deeper into each place without relying on a guidebook. As a solo traveler, these opportunities are often plentiful for me. People want to take solo travelers in, there’s more room for one, and it can all be experienced individually, providing an amazing learning experience about the world.

The beauty of traveling solo, especially as a female, has also taught me so much about myself. It’s made me more independent, stronger, and more resilient. I’ve encountered so many amazing women out there doing the very same thing, some of whom are as young as 18 or 19 years old.

I’ve received countless emails from girls in similar situations, those who want to leave behind a conventional life to see the world. I always tell them that if it’s in their heart, they have to do it.

In my monthly column, you can expect to see more posts on exactly how to do that — how to confront and get over fear, how to inform and quell the hesitations of your friends and family, how to end your lease and sell your stuff, what to pack, how to stay safe, how to find deeper cultural experiences, and much more. I’ll show you that it’s easier than you think to travel around the world as a woman.

Traveling long-term absolutely requires a leap of faith, but with the right preparation, it doesn’t have to be a scary one.

Kristin Addis is a solo female travel expert who inspires women to travel the world in an authentic and adventurous way. A former investment banker who sold all of her belongings and left California in 2012, Kristin has solo traveled the world for over four years, covering every continent (except for Antarctica, but it’s on her list). There’s almost nothing she won’t try and almost nowhere she won’t explore. You can find more of her musings at Be My Travel Muse or on Instagram and Facebook.

Conquering Mountains: The Guide to Solo Female Travel

For a complete A-to-Z guide on solo female travel, check out Kristin’s new book, Conquering Mountains. Besides discussing many of the practical tips of preparing and planning your trip, the book addresses the fears, safety, and emotional concerns women have about traveling alone. It features over 20 interviews with other female travel writers and travelers. Click here to learn more about the book, how it can help you, and you can start reading it today!
 

A Complete Guide to Visiting the Paris Sewers Museum

Updated: 7/14/2018 | July 14th, 2018

NOTE: As of July 2018, the Paris Sewers Museum is closed for renovations. It plans to reopen in 2020.

Paris. It’s one of the most romantic cities in the world. Sipping champagne at the Eiffel Tower, admiring incredible works of art at the Louvre, strolling along the Seine. Paris is a beautiful city, but there’s more to it than meets the eye.

You just have to look below the surface.

Literally.

Some of the best sights in Paris are actually found underground. There’s the popular Catacombs of Paris, where you can explore bone-laden passages.

But there’s another place too: The Paris Sewers Museum (Le Musée des Égouts de Paris).

Paris is a gigantic city dating back thousands of years. From its early days as a Roman outpost through modern times, the city has had to deal with the one thing that comes with people: waste.

In ancient times, it wasn’t too big of a problem. The population wasn’t large enough yet to create any real pollution, so everything went into the Seine. Sure, the streets were dirty and smelled, but that was just a fact of life all the way through medieval times.

However, as Paris grew in the Middle Ages, more and more waste went into the Seine, and by the late Middle Ages, the river was too polluted to use anymore. It stank and made people sick. Moreover, the streets were filthy with human and animal waste. People just threw their waste onto the street, where it just sort of stayed. (This was a common practice all over Europe up until the 19th century. In fact, part of the reason women began carrying those little parasols in the late 18th and 19th century was to protect themselves from falling…debris.)

Something needed to be done.

Beginning in 1370, the city started building sewers and drains. The sewers expanded under leaders like Louis XIV and Napoleon, but while the system got bigger and bigger, it still wasn’t effective. Waste still eventually made its way to the Seine, and diseases like typhoid spread. Victor Hugo, who wrote Les Misérables, described the sewers as “fetid, wild, fierce…”

In the 19th century, the city employed an engineer named Eugene Belgrand. He expanded the sewer system (adding over 1,000km of new sewers) and the size of the drains and roads, started a treatment plant, and began to build aqueducts so Paris could pump in drinking water from the surrounding area. As the sewers expanded, disease and pollution declined, leading to decreased mortality rates.

Paris now has over 2,100 km of pipelines that, if stretched out, would reach Istanbul. It’s the biggest system in the world and deals with over 1.2 million cubic meters of wastewater each day.

The sewers opened to tourists during the 1867 World Expo and have been a huge draw ever since. The museum lets you explore part of the sewers and learn how the city copes with all its waste. It’s a very informative exhibit, with most of the signs in French, German, and English. You’ll get to walk through some of the active sewers and can hear the waste flowing to its final destination below you. And it actually doesn’t smell that bad.

The tour can be done in 30 minutes or less. In the beginning, there are some pictures and information on the history of the sewers, as well as some of the old machines they used to clean them. There are a few parts where some of the displays are only in French, but most of the content was in English as well. Keep your eyes peeled for the large metal balls too. They were actually used to clean the sewers, as the water pressure would roll them through the sewers and unblock the debris that had built up.

Everyone comes to Paris to see the Louvre, the Eiffel Tower, and Notre Dame. See something different (and not too stinky). The Paris Sewers Museum offers a behind-the-scenes look and unique perspective on how this modern city deals with an age-old problem. It was one of the most unique things I’ve done — and I highly recommend a visit. (Plus, there are no lines.)

Oh, and just make sure to bring some hand sanitizer for when you are done!

How to Visit the Paris Sewers Musuem
The Paris Sewers Museum is near the Alma Marceau metro stop. It’s right across the bridge on your left. It’s open every day except Thursday and Friday 11am-5pm and costs 4.40 EUR for adults, with discounts available. Admission is free with the Paris Museum Pass.

Book Your Trip to Paris: Logistical Tips and Tricks

Book Your Flight
Find a cheap flight to Paris by using Skyscanner or Momondo. They are my two favorite search engines. Start with Momondo.

Book Your Accommodation
You can book your hostel in Paris with Hostelworld. If you want to stay elsewhere, use Booking.com as it consistently returns the cheapest rates. (Here’s the proof.)

Don’t Forget Travel Insurance
Travel insurance will protect you against illness, injury, theft, and cancellations. I never ever go on a trip without it. I’ve been using World Nomads for ten years. You should too.

Need Some Gear?
Check out our resource page for the best companies to use!

Want More Information on Paris?
Be sure to visit our robust destination guide on Paris for even more planning tips!

Photo credits: 1-4

Get the In-Depth Budget Guide to Paris!

For more in-depth information, check out my guidebook to Paris written for budget travelers like yourself! It cuts out the fluff found in other guides and gets straight to the practical information you need to travel and save money in one of the most beautiful and romantic cities in the world. You’ll find suggested itineraries, budgets, ways to save money, on- and off-the-beaten-path things to see and do, non-touristy restaurants, markets, and bars, and much more! Click here to learn more and get started.

A Lesson in Kindness While Hitchhiking Through Iceland

“Where are you going?” he asked from the driver’s seat.

“Thingeyri,” I replied. A confused look appeared on the man’s face.

“Thingeyri,” I said again, this time changing the intonation in my voice.

“Ahh, Thingeyri! Yes, I can take you there!”

I had been standing alone by the side of the road for two hours, hoping someone would give me a lift. Earlier that morning I’d taken the ferry to Brjánslækur, where I naïvely assumed the bus would align with the ferry’s arrival. But after landing, the dock master corrected that assumption: there wasn’t a bus until 6:30 p.m.

I looked at my watch. It was 11 a.m.

Crap, I thought.

I raced to the top of the dock in hopes a car would pick me. But as the cars exited the ferry, driving off to complete their journey, none did. Scores of other people walked toward waiting cars filled with friends and family. They too ignored my jutted-out thumb.

Alone, I went into the ferry terminal, ate some soup, and ventured back to the road. To my left was the empty dock and, past that, a vast, tranquil bay that shimmered on this sunny day. To the right side of the road were farms, sheep, and rolling hills. The only sign of human activity was the little red ferry building where, if all else failed, I could stay until the bus came.

No cars passed.

I waited.

And waited some more.

In the distance, a car.

I stuck out my thumb.

As the car passed, the driver looked at me but didn’t slow down.

A few more cars passed as if I wasn’t there.

It was a beautiful, warm, clear day — the first that entire week. The sun shone bright above, and the sheep grazed in the meadows. I decided to walk to the gas station, six kilometers away. Maybe I would have better luck at the crossroads.

I stopped often along the way to marvel at how quiet it was. The only sounds were the wind and my footsteps. I was in no rush, and the serenity and calm of my surroundings made the long walk bearable. I passed black sand beaches filled with sheep — even they knew to take advantage of the weather. Streams that started in the glacial mountains ended their journey in the salty bay.

At the crossroads I saw a family eating at the picnic area. Maybe they would give me a lift. I made sure to look in their direction often.

Hours passed. Cars came up the main road. I stuck out my thumb but the drivers shrugged, turned on their blinkers, and headed off in the wrong direction. The family continued to have the longest picnic ever.

Finally, as they packed up their picnic, the family looked over at me. This is my chance, I thought. Please go my way!

They got in their car, turned toward the crossroads…but then went right, heading to Reykjavik. I needed them to go left, toward me and Thingeyri!

I was defeated and hungry. When I had hitched Iceland’s main ring road, rides were abundant, but here they were nonexistent.

I was ready to give up, trudge back to the ferry building, and wait for the bus, but then, like an Icelandic angel descending from heaven in a gigantic steel cage, Stefan stopped his SUV and picked me up.

Stefan drove like Speed Racer. The road was in rough condition, opened only a few weeks ago due to a late winter and cold spring. There was still a lot of snow on the ground. “In the winter, this is all snow and you can’t drive here,” he said.

The road turned to gravel as we whizzed through the mountains. I was jostled up and down as we hit a few potholes, and I closed my eyes as we took turns too fast for comfort, hoping he would notice that and slow down.

He did not.

But for all the discomfort, I stared agape at the landscape that unfolded before me. Around me were melting glaciers, with rivers of clear blue water cutting into the snow. To my left were huge valleys where waterfalls fell down mountains into rivers and snows disappeared under the summer sun, leaving the growing grass a bright green. On flatter ground, the water pooled into lakes, and travelers stopped to take pictures.

Stefan and I talked a bit. His lack of English and my lack of Icelandic made long conversation difficult but we shared the basics. He was a fisherman from Reykjavik and married with four kids. “Triplets,” he says giving me a “right, I know” look. He was returning to Thingeyri to prepare for another ten days at sea.

During the journey, he pointed out landmarks and searched for the English word to describe them. I helped him when I could. I’d poorly repeat the word in Icelandic, Stefan would correct me, and I would fail again.

We drove through the mountains into a thick fog. When we could barely see a meter ahead, he slowed down, taking his time to drive the mountain road. As we crept along, I occasionally glimpsed the snow-covered precipices we would careen over if he wasn’t careful. I was relieved Stefan had finally decided to drive with caution. As we made our way down the mountain, the fog lifted and he pointed to a small town ahead. “Thingeyri.”

He dropped me off at my guesthouse and we said good-bye — he was off to sea, I was off to hike the mountains.

The next morning I awoke to see the fjord and mountains, clear of fog. As I hiked up Sandfell Mountain and enjoyed the beautiful day, I thought fondly of Stefan and his willingness to help a stranger my side of the road. Wherever his boat was, I hope he was filling it with fish and knew that somewhere out there was lone traveler eternally grateful for the experience.

Get the In-Depth Budget Guide to Iceland!

Want to plan the perfect trip to Iceland? Check out my comprehensive guide to Iceland written for budget travelers like yourself! It cuts out the fluff found in other guides and gets straight to the practical information you need to travel and save money in one of the most beautiful and exciting destinations in the world. You’ll find suggested itineraries, tips, budgets, ways to save money, on and off the beaten path things to see and do, and my favorite non-touristy restaurants, markets, and bars, and much more!! Click here to learn more and get started.