Would you rather . . .

. . . take a trip or take care of a crying newborn?

In one of my travel reads, I came across this paragraph:

"Traveling is the great true love of my life . . . To travel is worth any cost or sacrifice. I am loyal and constant in my love for travel, as I have not always been loyal and constant in my other loves. I feel about travel the way a happy new mother feels about her impossible, colicky, restless newborn baby--I just don't care what it puts me through. Because I adore it. Because it's mine. Because it looks exactly like me. It can barf all over me if it wants to--I just don't care."

Pardon the barf reference, but this description is great and right on. Sometimes your trips really do "barf all over you." Things go wrong . . . somewhere, at some point, always, inevitably, no matter what you plan for or which "Lonely Planet" you consult. You get lost, you have no money, you sit at an embassy all day, your hotel reservations mysteriously vanish, your camera vanishes, you get bedbug and mosquito bites, you stay right on the beach but don't have one second to enjoy it, you get ripped off, you go without showers and food, the bus is bumpy, it's hot, it's cold, it's muddy, it's so crowded you can't move, people stare, there's no bathroom, your clothes are dirty, and if you take me to one more temple! . . . (yes, this is me remembering our arrival in Sri Lanka and a few moments in India). But, even then, you do it because you love to travel and you wouldn't trade the experience for anything. (A side note, I also like this analogy because while I travel around everyone else I know my age--friends from high school and college--are taking care of their babies.)

Another great quote from the same book:

"I'm not completely helpless out there in the world. I have my own set of survival techniques. I am patient. I know how to pack light. I'm a fearless eater. But my one mighty travel talent is that I can make friends with anybody. I can make friends with the dead . . . I could probably make friends with a four-foot-tall pile of Sheetrock. This is why I'm not afraid to travel to the most remote places in the world, not if there are human being there to meet.

Mostly, you meet your friends when traveling by accident, like by sitting next to them on a train, or in a restaurant, or in a holding cell. But these are chance encounters, and you should never rely entirely on chance. For a more systematic approach, there is still the grand old system of the "letter of introduction" (today more likely to be an e-mail), presenting you formally to the acquaintance of an acquaintance. This is a terrific way to meet people, if you're shameless enough to make the cold call and invite yourself over for dinner."

Again, exactly right! Patience, packing light, a strong stomach . . . and the friends. Exactly what we did and exactly what saved us from being "barfed on" or what helped us get cleaned up after we were "barfed on". (B, B, and K - See! We're not the only ones who do this!) And it's not just this trip. Katie and I have followed the friend-of-a-friend approach almost everywhere we've traveled (we also do our fair share of chance encounter friendships too . . . but not in holding cells, at least not yet . . . Katie's the better one at making friends, but I have my personable moments too). Sometimes, I feel guilty about taking advantage of people's generosity - especially people I really don't know at all other than I know someone they know. But, I have come to a bit of a justification regarding accepting a stranger's hospitality (and I've never had a friend-of-a-friend treat me with anything less than overly generous hospitality). I think it's a bit of a Pay It Forward idea. At the moment, like in Sri Lanka when things got messed up, we desperately needed our friend-of-a-friend who came and rescued us. But, we had no way of paying her back completely for all that she did for us and probably never will have the chance. But, whenever someone comes to my house as a friend of one of my friends, I know I will show them every courtesy that was ever shown to me. Maybe this is (or can become) a sort of Traveler's Code. Or maybe more of a guideline . . .

Thinking along the lines of travel advice, I'll share the best travel advice I ever got from anyone. Max Magee from my church back home once told me, "Half as much stuff, twice as much money." Yep, that's always the way to go.