There is no way I could just be a tourist in the world for 2 ½ years.  I knew I had to mix it up to prevent boredom and burnout. I craved variety in my everyday life, so why would my life on the road be any different? Yes, of course, the constant change of scenery, culture, and people was variety in and of itself, but I knew I couldn’t just keep showing up in a new town each week and essentially continue to ‘walk around the world for a year.’  I needed to do, ya know, stuff. I needed to immerse myself somehow in society and feel like a part of it.  To start this process, I did different things like a Spanish Immersion program in Costa Rica (Spanish lessons in the morning and yes, surfing lessons in the afternoon) or a two-week, several-hundred mile bicycle trip down the length of Vietnam. But I needed even more structure. I needed…a job (cue shrieking horror music).

Now, just the sheer fact that I decided to blog about my trip and also write travel articles to be published elsewhere means that I was already working. I was trying to make time each week to sit and just write – a very hard thing to do when you are sitting in Rome or Cairo or Hong Kong and there are so many things around you vying for your attention.

Besides my new ‘day job’ as travel writer and photographer, I landed a few other actual jobs around the world.

1. Barrista and sandwich maker at a café in Melbourne
2. TV producer and reporter in Chile
3. Private business English tutor in Istanbul
4. Media proofreader in Istanbul
5. Actress in American Feature film in Istanbul
6. Research Assistant at the University of Cologne helping conduct an International survey on Airline/Airport Relationships
7. Writer and proofreader at publishing company in Berlin
8. Publicist for English Immersion company in Madrid
9. Extra in Hollywood
10. Pet Sitter around the world (Istanbul, LA, Chicago)

But many have asked me how did I find all these jobs? Did I look before I went on my trip?  The simple answer is no.  I simply arrived in a new place with the random idea that I could maybe find work there. In Australia, I spoke the language (sort of), so it seemed like a natural place to find a job other than teaching English. In Turkey, it’s all about connections and once I met one person…the ball just started rolling.  Besides that, I used persistence, word-of-mouth, and friends’ connections and a lot of smiles.

So, on this adventure, I worked all over and found it to be another great way to “go local.”  I lived in one place for an extended amount of time. I had a place to live. I took public transport (or a bicycle in Melbourne) to work. I had a schedule. I had a paycheck (well, cash). I truly felt like part of the fabric of society. And I actually gained some new skills, but most importantly I made real friends.

To hear more about my working around the world, listen to this podcast interview I did for Chris Christensen at the Amateur Traveler.

Amateur Traveler Episode 194 – Work and Travel Around the World

I spent a few days in the French Countryside with my friend Caroline at her cousin’s house in the tiny, rural town of Bias (pronounced BEE-ah). It was just what I needed – a quiet place to relax, leave my bag on the floor for several days untouched, catch up on some much needed writing, and just hang out by the crackling fire. The house was warm and cozy with terracotta tiled floors and wood beamed ceilings overhead, and the aforementioned big stone fireplace.  We didn’t do a whole lot and I liked it. We cooked a little, sat by the fire, and met some of the sweet French neighbors who had us over for drinks our very first night. We couldn’t really speak much French, they spoke zero English and yet it was a blast.

One day we rode our bikes through the lush and tranquil (except for the random hunter’s gunshots echoing through the air) forest land that surrounds Bias to the beach – normally packed with oiled-up holiday makers in the summer months, now it was quiet and delightful. We had a wonderful lunch in the warm sun of an outdoor café as the waves of the Atlantic crashed up onto the beach down below.

Another day we took a day trip, two hours south to Spain. I love the fact that in Europe, crossing country borders is like crossing state borders in the US; except that here…everything changes-the people, the culture, (formerly the currency), the language. Well, I guess that’s true too if you are crossing into Texas.  It was a lovely day. In San Sebastian, we met up with a friend of mine that I met last year at Pueblo Ingles.  He gave us a great tour of the city – a place that has been compared to Rio since the city comes right down to the beach. It is also known for its amazing food. We went on a mini pintxos (tapas) and beer crawl-going bar to bar trying some of the local treats. Mmm. Good friends and good food – really a perfect day.

Back home in the States, I’d, of course, heard about bullfighting, but never really realized how big and popular it still is here in modern day Spain. Bullfighting is a traditional spectacle that is still practiced in Spain, Portugal, Southern France, and many Latin American countries. One of the first things I saw in my first city in Spain, Valencia, was the bullring and I have since seen them in basically every city I have visited here. Bullfighting is a centuries-old tradition, but is also a big business. Each year about 24,000 bulls are killed in front of a live audience of more than thirty million people.

As an animal lover, it will not surprise you that I am not thrilled about bull fighting. But, as a journalist I have to tell you that I can’t tell you about it firsthand, because I did not (and could not) go to a fight. Just seeing the postcards on the racks with photos of a bull with banderillas (brightly colored sticks with harpoon points) stuck in his back and blood drenching his fur made me cringe and look away. Now, that being said, I do realize that just because something is different in other countries does not make it wrong. In American thousands of animals suffer every year (especially at our factory farms), and I certainly don’t like this either. But I did learn some more about it…

The fighting bulls are bred specifically for this industry. Supposedly they live a pampered and cushy life before their ‘date with destiny’ in the ring and I’m told that if bullfighting were to become outlawed entirely—there would be no money and therefore no ‘nice’ life for these beasts.

To many, especially in Andalucia, the home of bullfighting, it is a deep cultural ritual—some see it as a form of art—the way ‘man and bull’ perform together. But there is no question to me that the actual fight (no matter how sweet the bull’s life was pre-bull ring) is gruesome and cruel. Often times just before a fight a bull’s horns may be illegal shaved. This affects his balance, but is also a very sensitive and painful thing for the animal. During the fight, men on blindfolded horses drive lances into the bull’s back and neck muscles. The bull’s ability to lift its head is impaired due to severe loss of blood. Then come the banderilleros on foot, who proceed to stab banderillas into the bull’s back to further increase the pain. There are only so many master matadors at the top of their game so also oftentimes it is not a clean kill and the animal is repeatedly stabbed until it’s bloody, painful demise.

There is some opposition to this barbaric sport, but not much here in Spain. Just recently the city of Barcelona outlawed bullfighting, but this maybe more due to the spectacle’s connection to Fascist Spain and former dictator Franco than the bull fighting itself. A 2002 Gallup poll found that nearly 70% of Spaniards express “no interest” in bullfighting while the remaining 30% express “some” or “a lot” of interest. The poll also found significant generational variety, with over 50% of those 65 and older expressing interest, compared with less than a quarter of those 25–34 years of age. Apparently many of the spectators at bullfights are curious tourists who often leave before its over after being overwhelmed by the savage cruelty of it all.

Today’s matadors of Spain are as famous as today’s popstars. One of the most legendary toreros is Manolete, killed by a bull in 1947. Adrien Brody plays him (alongside Penélope Cruz as his lover) in the upcoming movie “Manolete.” Of course, I don’t care really if the matador dies in the ring…because he made the conscious choice to be there. But believe me, no one asked the bull what he wanted.

I celebrated my American Thanksgiving Holiday in Sevilla, Spain. I was lucky enough to be invited by a friend (an Australian friend, no less), Kristy, to the traditional American feast at where else? An Irish Pub, of course. I have found that these are the unofficial meeting spots of expats all over the world. And there seems to be an Irish Pub in just about every city and small town I have visited. Since moving to Sevilla to be with her Spanish boyfriend, Kristy has fallen into a group of American girls who also live there. They call themselves “the Americanitas, and one odd Aussie.” Catchy, isn’t it?

There were about twelve of us on a back heated patio of the Irish bar that was advertising a special scrumptious ‘Thanksgiving’ feast for 20 Euros—not very cheap for what they gave us, but it was worth it to me to be meeting new people and spending the holiday laughing and socializing.

Okay, I’ll admit the food they served looked more like airplane food or the ‘fine cuisine’ we got back in the day under the fluorescent lights of the high school cafeteria. The stuffing and mashed potatoes looked dry and were perfectly round ball shapes probably scooped out of some huge prison-like cooking vessel with an ice cream scooper. But looks can be deceiving, because it actually tasted quite good. And, believe me, it wasn’t because I was missing ‘American food.’ In fact, that brings me to my next point actually. What really is American food? Recently, a Spanish friend asked me to make him some traditional American dishes. He wanted to know, ‘what is American food?’ It took me mere seconds to answer, ‘Mexican, Chinese, Sushi, Indian, Thai, Italian (really what is more American—than pizza?!), Greek, Middle Eastern, Ethiopian, Polish, on and on.’

He was like ‘No, I mean real American food?’

Unfortunately, around the world, for those who haven’t stepped onto our fair shores, many assume we are all chowing down at the ‘Golden Arches’ (McDs) or KFC and eating hamburgers and hot dogs ‘til we explode. Now, for some, I guess there is some truth to this. But, I would say, living in Chicago, I have food from all over the world right out my front door. I guess it’s just like the stereotypes Americans have about some foreign cultures. Well, don’t feel bad ‘my fellow Americans’ because there are many, many negative stereotypes floating around the world about America and Americans especially amongst people who have never traveled to the US, but feel they have because they have seen “Cops” reruns or movies like “Dumb and Dumber” and “Hey Dude, Where’s My Car?” (cinematic excellence I’m sure…but this American hasn’t seen either of these Oscar-worthy films).

“Okay, fine, but what did you eat growing up?”

Well, that was easy—like most people coming from the Northeast—Pizza and Chinese food.

Still not sounding very ‘American’ to him he replied, “Okay, but what foods did your parents or grandparents cook at home?”

Okay. Okay. We had our fair share of meatloaf, chicken with rice, and the occasional spaghetti with meatballs (still sort of Italian I guess—although, I’m sure the Italians would scoff at this 1970s American dish or some horribly lame can of ‘Chef Boyardee,’ a chemical-laden packet of ‘Hamburger Helper,’ or my personal childhood fav: a tasty, comforting box of completely processed, bright yellow Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.) Mmmmmm-mmmm. My mom would always add some onions and an extra slice of plastic-wrapped canary yellow Kraft ‘cheese-food’ for that just-right, gourmet touch. But for many, actually, having their grandma’s cooking, was even more ethnic since the grandparents were often literally just ‘off the boat,’ from some far off land. So what is my point? What is American cooking? I guess I can consult the master chef’s in America: Chicago’s Charlie Trotter and Grant Achatz, NYC’s Mario Batale (before his Food Network fame) and Alfred Portale (Gotham Bar & Grill), and Thomas Keller of the French Laundry who all use a lot of seasonal locally grown and farmed ingredients in their internationally influenced masterpiece fish, meat, and poultry dishes. But I think it is indisputable that American cooking has been influenced by the millions and millions of immigrants that started it all and that now call America home. Buen Provecho!

I spent the last few weeks making my way down around Southern Spain into the Andalucía region—an area that is “Spain” intensified and is said to be the most ‘undiluted’ heart of the country.It is also the original home of tapas, brutal bull fighting, and passionate flamenco dancing. I started in charming Granada which is home to the magical and awe-inspiring former Muslim Palace of Alhambra.I spent a few lazy days soaking up the Mediterranean rays in the ‘tranquilo’ tiny white-washed Costa del Sol town of Nerja. And then spent a few more ‘days doing nothing’ in Cadiz just west of the ‘rock of Gibraltar’ and on the beaches of the Atlantic Ocean. I can’t believe I’ve already reached the shores of the Atlantic. I gazed across toward America blew a kiss and continued to…do nothing. So, keeping with this relaxed theme…I therefore did not write anything (well except this paragraph). So instead, you can also relax and ‘just look at the pictures.’

PS-I’m heading to London for Christmas and New Years. Does anyone know ANYONE I can meet there? Thanks.