To swipe or not to swipe ...

In an article on NYTimes.com’s travel section, Susan Stellin discusses how to use credit cards while traveling abroad. Stellin discusses avoiding a freeze on your account, rejection of cards abroad and the growing trend of chip and PIN cards abroad, as opposed to our American magnetic strip cards.

Stellin mentions how most travelers know to call their financial institutions to let the banks know of any upcoming travel plans so that they don’t freeze an account. I would say to also let your bank know EXACTLY what day you will be leaving any particular city or country. A friend of a friend recently had a problem where her account was emptied in Italy, several days after she had left the country. She now is having issues working out the situation with her bank. I also would say to warn your bank about a cap on spending or withdrawals so that if your information is stolen while you are abroad, your bank still will know to freeze your account and not assume it was you who made a $1,000 withdrawal in a rural village of Italy.

Another growing problem abroad, according to Stellin, is the increased use of a different kind of card in other countries that incorporates a chip and requires cardholders to enter a PIN number; unlike our cards, which have the magnetic stripe that you have to swipe. The credit card companies that Stellin spoke to said that travelers should insist that they still can use their magnetic cards, but trust me, it’s very difficult to argue with a store employee, even in England where they speak the same language.

The chip cards were just starting to come into play when I was in London, but my problem was with the store clerks’ demand that your signature EXACTLY match the one on your card. Now, we all know that those little strips they leave on the back of the cards for your signature are practically impossible to write on. And, obviously, your signature does not look exactly the same every time you sign something. Frankly, I think they should be more worried if it DID look exactly the same. That would be a much more sure sign of forgery or fraud. Anyway, it took about 10 minutes of convincing the Sainsbury’s employee, and two more forms of ID, that it was indeed my signature and I was indeed the cardholder.

Most credit card companies also charge exorbitant out-of-country swipe fees, so make sure whatever you’re buying is worth it. Honestly, credit cards should be a last resort while traveling abroad. Cash is the best option and often presents fewer complications. But be careful with cash, as well. Keep smaller amounts in many different pockets or carry a money belt that lies flat against your body and is invisible to passers-by. Also, don’t go fishing around your money belt in public.

I would suggest exchanging at least a few hundred dollars for local currency before you leave because exchange rates at airports are horrible, and if you need to grab a cab or a buy a ticket for local transport, you’ll need the local currency on hand. And find out if your bank has an international counterpart that you can withdraw money from without being charged a fee. For example, when I went to London, I found out from Bank of America beforehand that they had an agreement with Barclay’s — one of London’s biggest banks — where we could withdraw money charge-free. Also, don’t assume that just because you have a Citibank account and there’s a Citibank in St. Petersburg, Russia, that it won’t charge you a fee. Make sure of everything beforehand.

In the end, budget yourself, be smart, do your research and use credit cards as a last resort.

Have I missed anything? What have your experiences been with using credit/bank cards abroad?

Missing London

"I am homesick for Paris, although that’s where I am. It happens to me every time I visit. I grieve for this great city I have lived in and left, precisely because I’m only visiting. Like having a drink with an ex-lover: We don’t belong to one another anymore," writes Nancy Kline in Missing Paris, an article on WorldHum.com.

What I like to call "Iconic London,"
Big Ben flanked by an Underground sign.

Boy, do I know how that feels. My 3.5 months in London were some of the best of my life. I felt like I belonged there. The city was MY city ... oddly enough in a way that New York never was, though I grew up living around that metropolis for the majority of my life. And yet that amazingly strong connection I have to the city, the one that makes me anxiously anticipate every possible subsequent visit back is precisely what makes me realize that it isn't my city anymore.

The picture to the left is what most people would consider "iconic London." But that's not the London I know. It's definitely a part of it, but my London starts in South Kensington, the neighborhood in which I lived throughout Spring 2007.

On my two visits back since leaving (so far) I have attempted to recreate what my typical day was when the city belonged to me. I went to the same cafe on Gloucester Road that offered a free croissant with coffee purchase. I walked down the same streets I walked down three years ago, but they weren't my streets anymore. I was a tourist, not a resident. And yes, it may be presumptuous and ignorant to think the city was mine after only 3.5 months. I wasn't a local by any means, but I sure did feel like one. I lived there. I knew it. It was mine.

On my visits back I found myself doing the touristy things that I didn't even think to do when I lived in London. I didn't see Westminster Abbey in the entire 3.5 months I was there. I went when I came back for my first visit. It's as if doing those things would help remind me of the feeling of belonging to the city and of it belonging to me, but all they did was make me feel more like an outsider than ever.

The only glimpses of that old feeling I get now when I'm back across the pond are when I am with my British friends. When I'm with them, it's like I've never left. We meet and talk and have dinner and I feel like I'm living in London again.

And then when I get on the plane to fly back home, I remember that even though it may never fully feel like my city again, those rare moments that it does make every trip back worth every second.

Do you have any cities you miss?

Why I travel

The New York Times is asking readers to show "Why We Travel" by submitting their favorite photos to the site. Below is a sampling of why I travel.

1. The people ... both the locals and those you share the adventures with.

My TopDeck group in Egypt

Egyptian schoolgirls who were very eager to pose for pics.

An Indian family that agreed to pose for a picture in Orcha.

Old and new friends in Copenhagen, Denmark.

Edam cheese in the Netherlands (above)


Paella in Barcelona (below)

2. The food. I find one of the best (and yummiest) ways to truly experience another culture is through the food.

Food market in Barcelona

Interesting chocolate in Brugge, Belgium

Pasta and wine in Florence, Italy

3. And, of course, the sights! I don't care what kind of a traveler it makes me, but when I go to Egypt, I expect to see the pyramids. When I'm in Paris, you better believe I'm going to gander at the Eiffel Tower. And I'm sure as hell seeing the Taj Mahal if I've taken the 17-hour flight from New York to India. I'm all for seeing things "off the beaten path," but I don't think there's anything wrong with seeing a country's, city's or town's famous landscapes. Besides, that's all other people want to hear about when they ask you about what you saw and where you've been. If anything, those sights are great conversation starters to then open up people's perceptions to everything else a place might have to offer that you were fortunate enough to experience as well.

A street in Prague, Czech Republic

Park Guell in Barcelona, Spain

A liquor shop in Denmark 

The Tart with a Cart, Dublin

Sunrise over the Sahara, Egypt

Sugarcane trucks in Egypt

Fancy gardening, Brighton, England

Punts in Cambridge, England

Leeds Castle in England

View from the river in Orcha, India

A pretty park in fall, Minsk, Belarus

Up close with a Nepalese elephant

The Magic Garden in Philly

People bathing in Ganghes

Iconic London

Collosseum in Rome, Italy

Eiffel Tower, Paris, France

Realto Bridge in Venice, Italy

      And those are the reasons why I travel!
      Why do you travel?

Roaming perceptions

I find that I’m always taken aback by people’s perceptions of travel. When I told my family a few years ago that I was planning a trip to Egypt, my aunts gasped and started trying to talk me out of it. “It’s so dangerous ... Why do you want to go THERE? ... Why can’t you just go somewhere else, the world’s so big?”

Our fabulous group overlooking the pyramids of Giza

First of all, I never felt safer riding in the first-class seating train from Cairo to Luxor with our tour guide who could have been a bouncer and our “bus driver,” who was armed at all times. The tour companies aren’t stupid ... they don’t want anything to happen to you and take every precaution to make that the reality. Trouble is bad for business. Secondly, I hate that objection to a destination: “It’s dangerous.” Where in the world ISN’T dangerous nowadays? Walking in Times Square is dangerous!

Why did I want to go there? Oh, I don’t know, thousands of years of history, maybe? Actually seeing the place, culture and mythology that I’m obsessed with learning about (ever since I can remember, one of the first rooms I visit in any museum is the Egyptian room)? Seeing with my own eyes, and not through a book, the pyramids of Giza, the Sphinx and Valley of the Kings? Perhaps just one of those?

A group of Egyptian girls in Luxor
who were very excited to practice
their English and be photographed.

And yes, the world is big — and I want to see as much of it as I possibly can. My aunts continued to prompt me to go to Israel instead.
A) Yes, Israel is clearly safer ... pause ... NOT!
B) I want to go to Israel, as well, but why do I have to choose? I can do both and be a better person for it.

A delicious traditional Nubian meal.

Anyway, my trip to Egypt was one of the greatest I’ve taken. I often describe my experience of first seeing the pyramids as, you know when you see something in books so much and it’s amazing and then when you see it in person and it’s really not all that magnificent? This was the exact opposite. Those triangular structures are awe-inspiring and they are just grazing the surface of what I experienced in Egypt.

When I said I wanted to go to India, it was like déjà vu all over again ;-). Many also warned me about the poverty and how, especially in Nepal, I should prepare to be shocked. Mind you, these are people that have never stepped foot in India or Nepal, or anywhere near them. Yes, there is poverty — India houses the world’s richest and poorest people — and it’s heart breaking to have to turn your back on a child begging on the street, but, honestly, that’s part of the experience. It opens your eyes to the world. Sure, it’s easy to sit at home and tsk-tsk at the impoverished people living an ocean away, and it’s even easier to pretend that they don’t exist — I’m not one to do either.

This Nepalese man was very excited to show off his family
when we passed by on the way to our accommodations.

Where we stayed in Nepal certainly was a culture shock, but not in the way everyone had warned me about. In Nepal I saw people who were poor by Western standards. True, they didn’t have many tangible assets, their houses had roofs made out of hay, but they seemed happy. They lived with their entire families; they had their chickens and goats so they didn’t go hungry; some had elephants that were used to chauffeur tourists around the national park, so they made a living, be it modest or not. Maybe they were poor from a monetary standpoint, but they seemed much happier than a lot of the people I know working 60-plus hour weeks to make the big bucks so they can buy another expensive suit or car or home.

Pinky took us on a wonderful safari ride through
Chitwan National Park.

Sure, traveling is a culture shock, but that’s the point isn’t it? Sure, traveling can be dangerous, but so is crossing the street. Just be smart about it — I figured being a young, American white woman in Egypt or India by myself wouldn’t have been the safest bet, so I booked through a tour company, which actually allows you to see more of the country than you probably would on your own and allows you actually to enjoy the experience instead of worrying about how to book your train ticket to the next destination in a language you can’t understand on any level. And sure, there’s always someplace else you can go instead ... but drop the “instead” and you’ll broaden your horizons even more, and perhaps be surprised by what you find.

The road never traveled ...

Julia Roberts (as Elizabeth Gilbert) in "Eat Pray Love"

I saw "Eat Pray Love" on Tuesday night — and I cried ... a LOT. I think I ended up crying through about two-thirds of the movie — and it wasn’t at the sad parts **spoiler alert** like when Elizabeth Gilbert (played by Julia Roberts) leaves her husband (Billy Crudup), or when she breaks up with David (James Franco) or when she and Philippe (Javier Bardem) have a true heart-to-heart moment ... none of those moments elicited a single tear.

It actually took me a while to figure out for myself why exactly I WAS crying, and I’m not sure I fully get it even now, more than 24 hours of personal evaluations later. At the very surface of my emotions was my own connection to Liz’s need to find herself, and the need to travel to do that. (And, I'll admit, a bit of envy that she was able to make a living doing what I've dreamed of doing — being a travel writer.)

One of the happiest times
in my life was my semester
abroad, including this night
spent being a kid on a street
carousel in Florence.

I feel like lately I’ve been having a quarter-life crisis. I feel burned out at work and restless in practically every aspect of my life except my relationship (which, granted, is a huge part of my life, but not the entirety of it).

Every path in life that you choose means that you’re not choosing another path. And that’s not to say that the path you’ve chosen is the right or wrong one, it’s just that there always will be another one you’re not taking. I always have felt blessed for my family and friends, but often also have felt that I have made a lot of my life-shaping decisions based on their approval or what would make everyone else happy ... not necessarily what would make me happy.

I connected with Liz on that level. It took her life falling apart completely, severing all ties with the ones she loved, for her to have the opportunity to finally do something for herself and just get up and leave. Don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying I want something like that to happen to me. I’m in a very healthy and happy relationship ... the kind I’ve been looking for since boys stopped being icky. I know I want to spend the rest of my life with my boyfriend and eventually start a family with him and build our lives together.

Partaking in plenty of my
own "Eat"-ing in Italy
(February 2007)

But amid that decision and desire of mine to create that kind of life for us is that damn bite that won’t stop itching. That fucking travel bug bite that no matter how much I scratch it only dulls for a while and then flares up stronger than ever.

But I can’t just pick up and leave for a year — my ties to home are too strong. And that’s not a bad thing ... honestly it’s a great thing. “Travelers may yearn for the bearable lightness of the open highway, but we’re not, as is commonly believed, rootless. Personally, I am fond of home. That’s why I keep adding new ones. And that’s why expats are so good at putting down roots. They have lots of practice,” writes Eric Weiner in a WorldHum.com piece titled “The Shrink-Wrapped Traveler.” Hear, hear!

“There are inherent problems in trying to emulate one woman's quest of self-discovery, and inevitable disappointments — the largest of which is that you will never learn that you are, in fact, Elizabeth Gilbert. Her experiences were what they were because she carved her own path not one already written for her. And I can tell you with certainty that there aren’t enough Javier Bardems here to go around,” stated a piece on jezebel.com titled “How Elizabeth Gilbert Ruined Bali.”

I fully believe it's impossible to be in
Italy and NOT gain weight ...

I agree completely. Following someone else’s path is not the way to find your own “word,” as Gilbert describes in the book (and movie). Each person and place has a word that describes his or her or its essence. Gilbert eventually finds her word ... I’m still looking for mine ... but I know I won’t find it following her path. I have to carve out my own.

I remember when Eat Pray Love was published and I heard about it through the grapevine. I picked it up and devoured it. I related to it on a different level than I did the movie two days ago. I saw it as a guide to the possibilities that awaited me. I started planning how I would tell my parents that I was leaving for a year to go back to London and live there for a while, because I was so happy there ... and then how I’d travel all over Europe just to find out exactly where I belong (true, at the time, I wanted to follow Gilbert’s path through the culinary awesomeness that she described Italy was) ... and how I would go see India, not from the walls of an ashram, but exploring its amazing culture all on my own. (I eventually did take a tour through India and Nepal earlier this year that proved to be an eye- and mind-opening experience.)

A ghat on the Ganghes in Varanassi, India

But life has other plans for us than we dream up for ourselves. And that’s partly why I cried through the movie ... I cried for the never-accomplished plans of a 20-year-old girl who recently had graduated college, who was happy without a care in the world. It’s been only four years, but my life has changed several decade’s worth ... in some horrible ways (my mom’s illness and death) and other wonderful ways (finding true love).

Liz’s search revolves around balance ... finding a balance within herself. I think I’m still working that out ... but lucky for me, I have an incredible support system to help me with that. Eventually I do plan to see the world, and I fully believe that I will ... with those I love and the family that I, at some point, help to create for myself.

In the meantime, it’s back to scratching that itch one plane ticket at a time ...