On Google+

It's only been a couple of days since I joined Google+ - but what if they threw a party and nobody came?

I appreciate that it's still in limited trials according to Google, yet everyone and his dog now seems to be hitting it, but at this stage it's still a little quiet, a little empty, very few of my friends are on it (let along those I follow via Twitter)... yet for all of this, it's got plenty of potential to trounce Twitter, which is looking distinctly dry, dusty and in desperate need of a bit of lippy by comparison. I'd be very afraid.

Of course the bigger question is will it have the potential to topple Facebook, will the Zuckerberg juggernaut roll on without so much as a blip on the radar, or will they successfully coexist? I'm not sure and can't see anyone who'd be willing to call it for a while to come. Facebook has plenty of mind-share which will be difficult for Google to overcome - when many people think 'social media' they think Facebook - but if any company can do it, you'd think Google was up to the task.

In the meanwhile, it could be a helluva ride.

Gone, baby, gone

I'm now in the wilds of the American Southwest. If you'd like to follow what's happening, head to http://patrickveitchsouthwest.blogspot.com/

Cents and Sensibility

It seems over the last couple of months a couple of things above all others have slowly floated to the top of my morass of a mind, at least in terms of their relevance to travel - exchange rates, and entangled around that, "how the hell am I going to buy stuff overseas without getting screwed on transaction charges".

In the past it was all so easy - you'd leave Southampton on a steamer to embark on your Grand Tour before boarding a train, accompanied by an inevitably humble manservant skilled in the martial arts of the orient to protect you from undesirable gypsies with a penchant for cuffing their children to the ground (Blyton, Enid). Said manservant would have, handcuffed on or about his person at all times, a large leather satchel crammed to the gunnels with cash used to procure entry to dogfights, bear-baiting tournaments or in obtaining lodgings and fine fare for the evening. A sack full of small coins was reserved to throw at charming young urchins in exchange for a shoe shine or merely to confirm your largesse by surprising and delighting unsuspecting passersby. Sadly such extravagances disappeared months ago with the arrival of the GFC.

In the interests of preventing this blog from slithering into premature obsolescence, I've done some research and am now able to summarise alternative methods by which you can obtain products and services whilst travelling. There's always an upside as well as a downside - I've done my best to give fair attention to each:

Option 1: Take cash with you

Upside:

• Handy. You've got foreign currency already on you.
• Gives you a chance to familiarise yourself with all those near identical looking banknotes.
• You know you can buy stuff as soon as you arrive, and similarly know you can commence tipping people outrageous amounts for the near worthless acts of servitude they provide for you (shifting bags 3 metres, putting ice in a drink, shifting a body, handing you a paper towel in a toilet)

Downside:

• You'll stand a good chance of being knifed in the ribs and left to bleed out in a Hollywood alleyway*.

Option 2: Travellers cheques

Upside:

• Handy, if you can find someone that doesn't laugh and point at you for trying your luck presenting one.
• Of little use to individuals without a signature, rendering them largely theft-proof.. unless, of course, you get asked politely by a knife-wielded assassin to kindly provide him or her with a reference signature.
• Readily replaced if stolen.

Downside:

• Flags you as a holiday-maker and possibly in possession of other pilfer-worthy goodies, meaning...
• You'll stand a good chance of being knifed in the ribs and left to bleed out in a Hollywood alleyway.

Option 3: ATM, credit/debit cards or other forms of transactionable plastic

Upside:

• Handy, accepted everywhere.
• Can be used for cash or cash advances if necessary
• You get an itemised listing of everything you bought when you return home, leading to joy ("Hey, remember when we ate at that cool cafe in Santorini?") and heartbreak ("When did you order the Dom Perignon '53?", "We never bought a Pontiac in Tucson!")

Downside:

• Outrageous exchange rates and a liberal sprinkling of miscellaneous fees and charges can dampen the fun of travelling.
• Cards with foreign banks printed over them mean nefarious low-lifes such as robbers, muggers and travel writers know you're a foreigner, resulting in you...
• Standing a good chance of being knifed in the ribs and left to bleed out in a Hollywood alleyway (while they're safe in the knowledge that your next of kin live in another country, thus delaying police investigations).

Option 4: Travel cards

Upside:

• Make you smugly think you've hit upon a bargain idea that no-one else has considered.
• Promises all the benefits of a normal ATM or credit card, with none of the drawbacks

Downside:

• Has all the drawbacks of an ATM or credit card, with none of the benefits
• Flags you as a holiday-maker, meaning... well, you know. See Option 2.

Ultimately it seems you're screwed no matter what path you head down³, and as I often say, if you're going to get screwed you might as well like it. Just go in with your eyes open and recognise there's always a a downside, if not an outright scam.

Anyway, must rush - a very friendly Nigerian is offering me cash in return for giving him a hand getting some money out of the country.

³Patrick's Third Law of Travel: You will get screwed.

*Hollywood Alleyway. The sort of alley you see in Hollywood films, featuring large amounts of windblown trash, puddles, a dumpster, and some sketchy looking dude in ill-fitting clothes and a beard able to house who families of mammals, who sorta remembers seeing something happen but can't quite place it.

The Sure Shot Redemption

People new to travelling invariably make the mistake of bringing a different item of clothing to cover all occasions, just in case such an occasion should spring up.

They bring a casual jacket, a formal jacket, jumpers, t-shirts, long sleeved shirts, short sleeved shirts, shorts, casual pants, formal pants, a nice skirt and/or a nice dress (more than one, if they’re female), dress shoes, casual shoes, bathers (even in winter, in case they fortuitously stumble across a heated pool somewhere), slippers, pyjamas, dressing gown and, finally, a raincoat and umbrella. I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything, and they hope like hell they haven’t forgotten anything either.

Invariably, of course, the bow-backed traveler, having dragged their suitcase with the one broken trundle wheels through innumerable buses, taxis, hire cars, trains, and customs and immigration checks ends up finding he or she has only worn a fraction of what was taken. They resolve to never be so frivolous in what they opt to take with them again. And they invariably forget their solemn vow, several times, until at last they travel with nothing but two t-shirts, one pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, and a pair of boots, a jacket, yet somehow still find, almost magically, that they didn’t wear everything.

Based on the assumption that an ever diminishing number of items of clothing could be taken, yet not all of them worn, the only viable conclusion is that you could ultimately travel with nothing, yet still find you don’t wear everything. Prove me wrong.

I'd like to consider myself a seasoned traveler – who doesn’t? it sounds far cooler than ‘unseasoned traveller’ - so naturally I’ve long stopped dragging such extravagances halfway around the world for no purpose. Instead, I’ve pared my ‘take list’ for an upcoming trip to the Southwest US back to the ruthless, functional minimum a budding, yet travel hardened writer and photographer would need: one pair of jeans, a pair of shorts, a pair of boots and a jacket.

Oh, and 

• 2 x camera bodies, one full-frame digital with a booster, and one film (yes, film!) with three rolls of slide (yes, slide!) film.
• 4 x lenses
• 1 x flash
• 1 x tripod
• Sundry items of nerdy camera electronica (battery chargers, batteries, intervalometer for time-lapse shots, remote shutter release, headphones)
• 8 x filters, adaptor rings and external holders
• 1 x external hard drive
• 1 x external microphone with dead kitten (don’t ask)
• 1 x notebook
• Unknown x cables. Lots of cables. Cables I have no idea whether I’ll need, yet know I need to take¹

All of this is currently crammed into two bags, their YKK zips bulging under the savage brutality of it all.

One will be hauled onto the plane with me as hand-luggage², and the other to be entrusted to the tender mercies of the V. Australia cargo crews in Melbourne and LA. I’ve yet to weigh the lot, but gut feeling indicates there’s a very strong possibility that it’ll blow my weight limit before I even leave.

The question, then, becomes ‘of this, what will I likely use?’. I believe it’ll be, roughly

• One camera
• One lens

Maybe the emphasis should be on travel writing.

¹Patrick’s First Law of Travel. If you don’t take it, you’ll need it, usually urgently. If you do take it, you won’t, not ever, and you’ll curse yourself for bringing it. Typically applies to umbrellas, electronics, duplicate copies of identification, hard currency and small caliber handguns.

²Patrick’s Second Law of Travel. Make your hand luggage look light, even if it isn’t. Although it's rarely weighed, there is a weight limit on hand luggage. I’ve found as long as you trip merrily through ticketing, laughing (not too) gaily, and swinging it about as though it’s empty save a few toiletries, you can get away with murder. Quite literally, in fact – I once took a human head given to me as a housewarming present by a regional FARC warlord from Bogotá to Turkmenistan as carry on luggage. True* story.

Travel Writing for Fun and Profit

I've kept travel diaries for probably the last twenty years, and I've been a dedicated photographer for about the same length of time, so invariably one night I thought "Hey, I wonder if I could combine the two and make a living out of it".

I had no idea how to go about it, but figured all I really needed to do was put together a dossier of photos and samples of travel writing from previous trips, send it off to the attention of the Travel Editor at the Adelaide Advertiser, and a glamorous career submitting dispatches from every corner of the globe would surely beckon. This trip to the US would be a perfect start: send off an update every few days, accompanied by a couple of good photos, and they could run it if they wanted to - very little risk to the Advertiser, and a possible start for me.

I put together a dossier, combining a large wad of 5x7 glossies and writing samples, even a CV of what I wanted to achieve, and wrapped the lot up in a classy looking wallet with a business card attached. Damn, it looked awesome, bordering on professional - I'd hire me! Still, I'm a bit of a realist, so even at this early stage of the process I at least considered the possibility that this cold-calling method wouldn't get me too far. At least, I figured, I might get a foot in the door...

Those brash ambitions were thwarted pretty early - messages to pretty well every email address off of the "Contact Us" section of http://www.adelaidenow.com.au/ went unanswered, and when I cold-called with a dossier I was sent around to "Goods Inward" by the security guy, saying nothing could be submitted over the counter. I speculated upon a possible scenario:

Informant: "Stop the press! I've got photos of the entire Family First Party on a Thai sex holiday participating in a free-for-all orgy!"

Security Dude: "Sorry mate, nothing over the front desk - try Goods Inward"

As soon as I walked around the corner my heart sank a little.

After striding purposefully (manfully, even?) past a couple of guys wreathed in smoke who looked like they were just passing by from another world, I got to the Goods Inward door, hit the buzzer and was let into a room looking like a left over set from Brazil, boxes stacked to the ceiling. The large, gormless man with teeth like a Boston cemetery in charge of Goods Inward was seemingly dyna-bolted behind the front desk. He was also evidently hard of hearing - at least, that's my charitable interpretation of why he said what he did - as when I told him I had a package for the Travel Editor, he said "Travel Agent?".

They say you can usually pinpoint the moment when a relationship is over. This one was done for in a jiffy. I could nail it to the second. When we finally connected - when, for a fleeting, beautiful moment my intent was finally understood - he mumbled something about it not being a problem, took the dossier I'd lavished love and attention on, and slid it to the corner of the desk to never again see the light of day.

On my darker days I sometimes imagine it still there, unloved and forgotten, caked in dust, buried under dossiers and nude Family First shots. It will be uncovered in the fullness of time.

Or maybe sent to a Travel Agent.