Matador Network's Blog, page 2288

Traveling as a big person sucks

BRIAN SHAW IS THE TWO-TIME winner of the “World’s Strongest Man” competition. He’s also absolutely gigantic. At 6′ 8″ tall, he weighs 415 pounds — mostly in muscle.

Now, I’m a fairly large person myself, and I absolutely hate traveling on airplanes. It’s insanely uncomfortable, my legs never fit between the seats, and I’m always elbowing a stranger when my shoulder inevitably ends up out in the aisle. But Shaw filmed one of his recent plane trips, and since he’s got about 5 inches and 200 pounds on me, I think I can’t complain anymore.

Watching him walk through the aisles of the plane is palpably uncomfortable, and for the first time, I’m thankful I’m not a remotely strong or muscular person.

How to piss off a flight attendant

Photo: romiphoto

The friendly skies aren’t as friendly as they used to be. Security checks, limited snacks, and cramped cabins have made it hard out here for a passenger. But it’s even worse for a flight attendant. I should know — I was a US-based airline worker for 3 years, and I can tell you exactly what’ll make your flight attendant a lot more unpleasant.

Refuse to turn off your cellphone after the door has been closed.

What passengers might not know is that flight attendants can be fined up to $10,000 for ignoring federal safety regulations, so there’s no way we’ll just let it slide. Want to start off your flight on the wrong foot? Don’t listen to us when we ask you to hang up the phone and turn it off.

If you don’t comply, you could be charged with breaking the law. Rather spend two to five years in prison? That phone call had better be worth it.

Ask for a buddy pass.

How often do people bug airline employees about companion or buddy passes? Only on days that end in “y.” Most of those requests are from distant acquaintances, like the mail carrier, a taxi driver, or the pastor’s sister’s third cousin.

Unfortunately, employees are often allotted only enough companion passes for a spouse or partner. While buddy passes are a bit more plentiful, they’re typically reserved for the kid, Dad, Grandma, niece, or BFF who rarely gets to see their oft-gone loved one. So unless you’re one of those people, save up some money for a cheap flight instead.

Pretend you’re in a floating restaurant.

Most airplanes have a limited supply of food, or just enough for the plane to reach the next hub. While flight attendants can understand that you might be hungry or thirsty after a long walk to the gate, there isn’t enough food for you to stuff yourself non-stop.

And don’t assume we’re holding out on you. Flights are restricted to just what’s on the menu. Because meals are prepared on the ground before takeoff and aren’t exactly the freshest, food safety is always a huge concern. Can you imagine what would happen if 200 or so passengers all developed food poisoning at once? Yeah, it’s probably best to get your lobster, squid, and made-to-order smoothies before you board.

Treat the aircraft like a playground or daycare center.

While flying cross country might be a perfect time to catch up on Family Guy reruns, it doesn’t mean Junior has free rein to use the aisle as racetrack or playpen. Do you know the last time airplane carpets have been cleaned? No? Neither does your flight attendant.

Also, if you’re traveling with a child and are constantly hearing bells, make sure Junior isn’t leaning on the call button.

Ask what city you’re flying over.

I’m a flight attendant, not a tour guide. I’ve got no clue. Why don’t you ask the captain? Ignore that. Keep your fingers off the button.

Perform yoga stretches in the galley and in the aisles where we’re working.

Really? Chances are slim you’ll develop deep vein thrombosis between LA and San Francisco. Have a seat so I can move this food cart.

Poke, pull, prod, or push us.

Would you poke a restaurant waiter if you wanted a glass of water? Then why do you think it’s OK to poke a flight attendant?

Think about it: If you’re sitting and the flight attendant is standing, chances are you’re poking in an inappropriate place. Keep your fingers to yourself.

Leave the essentials at home.

Traveling with a baby? Pack the diapers and a pacifier. Asthmatic? Take an inhaler. If you’re traveling overseas and need to fill out immigration forms, it’s a good idea to take a pen, no?

Drag your oversized, overpacked luggage from your home to the airport and onto the plane — and then say you can’t lift it into the bin.

Well, technically, flight attendants can’t either.

Some airlines prohibit flight attendants from lifting baggage into overhead bins, as it can lead to an on-the-job injury that insurance won’t cover. And with baggage fees being what they are these days, people are rolling through the airport with everything but the kitchen sink. If you can’t lift it, what makes you think a 120-pound flight attendant can?

You packed it, you lift it. Also, when you get it to the overhead bin, please make sure it isn’t sticking out five inches. If it is, it’s getting checked.

Ask us to call another plane and request they hold your connecting flight.

Sure, because your appointment is more important than the appointments of everyone else on the connecting aircraft. [image error]

20+ essential South African words

Photo: Nagarjun Kandukuru

“Ja no, lekker hey boet. Come round for a braai later. We can have a few dops and throw some boerie on the fire.”

Look, when you have a country with 11 official languages and a handful of unofficial ones, it’s pretty inevitable that at some point the people are going to develop their own dialect. A mashup of languages, in this case.

Just Google the term “South Africanisms” and you will get alphabetized lists the length of a boerie coil. These are a couple1 of phrases you are going to need to know if you’re visiting South Africa:

1 When we say “a couple,” there’s no telling how many things are going to appear, but it probably won’t be two.

A braai, the quintessential South African experience. You might call it a barbeque. You might even think it is a barbeque. It is not. It is a braai.
Boerie or boerewors is what you eat at a braai, along with a tjop (or, chop). It translates as “farmer’s sausage” and is essentially a fat beef sausage, spiced to perfection and best served on a soft roll with cheap tomato sauce and fried onions.
A dop or two is the perfect complement to a braai. It’s your alcohol of choice, often a beer or a brannewyn en Coke (a brandy and Coke). We are a nation who drinks. Usually to our detriment.
Lekker. Literally, “nice.” But conveys so much more than just “nice.” It can be used to describe your meal (e.g., lekker boerie, boet); to happily confirm something (e.g., Ja no, lekker); or as a response to someone’s story (e.g., sounds lekker!).
Ja no quite obviously means “yes no” and also doesn’t really mean either of these things. It’s complicated. It’s an answer to a question; the actual implication is usually confirmed by the words following. “Ja no, lekker,” is a yes. “Ja no, I’m not sure,” is a no.
Like women might call each other babe as a sign of affection, men call each other boet or bru. It means brother.
In South African cultures, elders are greatly respected. Tannie and Oom are the Afrikaans terms for aunt and uncle and are considered to be a respectable term of address for anyone older than you. Because of the Afrikaans sentence structure, they may use it like this: “Can I help Oom with something?” “I like Tannie’s dress.” Sissie (sister, pronounced ‘see-see’), mama (mother), and tata (father) are more likely to be used by black South Africans. Ladies, try not to be offended when an older woman calls you mama. It’s not an ageist thing. Sissie is a more familiar term.
Traffic is controlled by robots, which roam our streets and zap taxis with their laser beams. Jokes. They’re the traffic lights.
The great minibus taxi, one of the principal unifying forces of our people (after rugby). Taxis, sometimes pronounced ‘teksi,’ are not like the elite cabs of the Western world. Everyone loves to hate them. They’re dangerous, un-roadworthy, cheap, and the preferred transport for the vast majority of township residents.
Mzantsi is an isiXhosa word meaning “south” and is a term of endearment for South Africa, our country. Advertisers like to use this word a lot.
I believe a bakkie (pronounced ‘buck-ey’) is called a pickup truck in other parts of the world, but I could be wrong. The vehicle of choice for the wide South African market.
Biltong or billies is a dried, spiced meat. The living best. Children teeth on the stuff, adults receive it as a birthday present.
Howzit is kind of a shortening of “how is it” and is used to start conversations. They’re not actually asking how you are, they’re just saying hi. Same as izit (or, “is it”). They’re not really asking if it is, they’re just acknowledging what you said.
Now now never means “now.” When someone tells you they’ll do something “now now,” expect to wait at least three days before it happens.
In casual situations, men are often referred to as an oke or an ou. Like where you might say “guy.” Sometimes used positively, e.g., “He’s a good oke.” Sometimes used negatively, e.g., “That ou needs to watch his fucking mouth.”

The truth behind horse racing [vid]

WARNING: Significant use of the f-bomb in the following video.

AS DISGUSTING as this is, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise. Where there’s this much money involved, everything becomes a commodity, a tool for humans to rake in cash. Let’s be real here: Horse racing doesn’t exist for the benefit of the animal. We’re not doing them a favour by exercising them.

This video is the result of a 4-month investigation by People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA). The investigator went undercover with a hidden camera, “working” for Steve Asmussen, “one of the most successful thoroughbred racers of all time” (who, it should also be noted, is also the most penalized horse trainer in the US for rule and drug violations).

On average, according to the video, 24 horses per week die on US horse tracks. If what the investigator uncovers here is an indication of the industry, it’s easy to see why.

Why travel is the best answer to divorce

Photo: David Compton

SOME PEOPLE ARE BORN TRAVELERS. We know who we are. We love airports, even when we aren’t going on the trip. We don’t really understand vacations, and never go on them. We can land alone in a foreign airport, without a guidebook or even knowing how to say thank you in the local language, and feel nothing but anticipation for the next meal. We often don’t know where we’re going to sleep tonight — and don’t really care. We have short-term or flexible careers, if any, though we can turn a hand at just about anything. We don’t “settle” well.

Our families think we’re crazy, yet they envy us at the same time. We can sleep anywhere, pick up languages easily, and are never bored. We are dangerously curious, often to the point of irritating. People think we’re interesting, but it’s hard to make friends “at home,” wherever that is. We’re not very patriotic, but doubt the viability of world peace. We focus on what we have wherever we are, not what we miss. We have something that we loved about every country we’ve been in, even the ones we didn’t like.

When the shit really hits the fan, we recognize it as a story in the making.

I am a traveler. So when my husband, of 26 years and many adventures, and I decided to separate, “going on a trip” was the obvious choice. Ending such a long and quite wonderful relationship isn’t quick, especially when there are kids involved, so by the time we were ready to make the move, we had been stationary for four years. Four years is a long time, more so for a sun lover living in Canada. Luckily for me, two of our three sons had finished high school by that time, and the 15-year-old was willing, if slightly reluctantly, to go on an adventure with his mother.

Maybe these are just the last few steps in the sunshine before I fall into the abyss of depression, insomnia, insecurity — of regret and longing and general panic.

I chose the destination in my typical haphazard fashion: while volunteering at a high school grad fundraiser, another volunteering mom mentioned Ecuador as a wonderful place she’d heard had cheap real estate. Maybe a month later, another acquaintance mentioned Ecuador as a hot new destination. That was enough to convince my inner mystic that it was ‘a sign.’

Some six months later our family exploded in twos: the older boys off to Nicaragua, my husband and the family dog to roam the US, the youngest and I off to Ecuador.

Separations are nothing new. Broken marriages are a dime a dozen, especially at my age (ok, I’m 48). The traditional approach, especially if there are children still living at home, is to maintain as consistent a routine as possible. Keep the house if you can, kids in the same school, same friends…hopefully you have a steady job and solid network of family and friends to rely on for support through the transition period. Yes, you’ll no doubt suffer from insomnia, and don’t worry about the panic attacks — any clinic doctor will fix you up with antidepressants. But in short, your life will suck for a while.

We stayed with one of my online English students, Bianca, who was a wonderful host. Through her we had a very gentle “insider” introduction to Ecuador, and got to know her family and some friends at the same time. Instant support network — and strangely enough, when the inevitable question, “…and how long have you been separated?” came up, the answer (anywhere from “yesterday” to “last week”) sounded so ridiculous, even to me, that all I could do was giggle my way through it. Giggles spawn smiles, and what at home would have been awkward silences and sympathetic looks somehow became conspiratorial laughter. Especially amongst women of similar age (and often experience), there was a “mice coming out to play” undercurrent. The reaction in the eyes of eligible men (few but not nonexistent) was different, but no less welcome.

And in that strange way that it’s often easier to share your most personal details with total strangers, my new marital status became an easy topic, something to be discussed objectively, or examined from a fresh vantage point. People often even jumped to the conclusion, “Yes, it’s probably much easier to make the adjustment while traveling, instead of staying at home and missing the person…” in that logically agreeable tone people use to agree that it’s “much better not to have a television at home” when they have three. In a way, it did turn what I considered my bold step into a case of “taking the easy way out,” but of course, the only opinion that really matters in this case is mine.

Since that first week, we’ve been on our own. We’re traveling. And I feel great.

Maybe the cliff is coming. Maybe these are just the last few steps in the sunshine before I fall into the abyss of depression, insomnia, insecurity — of regret and longing and general panic. Somehow, it doesn’t feel that way. Anyway, for now, I’m not even going to try to see that far ahead, but keep my face turned to the sun and bask in the warmth of it.

Join #MatUTalks for a Twitter chat!

ON APRIL 3, 2014 at 2:30 EST, I’ll be hosting a Twitter chat along with MatadorU faculty, students, Matador editors, and an extended community of writers and journalists around the topic of how to transform your travel writing. Please join us by following the hashtag #MatUTalks.

Leading up to the chat, we’ve published a new series on travel writing. Here’s a quick outline:

Part 1 posed a list of 59 questions to ask before sending your writing to an editor.
Part 2 targeted the single biggest area of improvement for most writers (and especially bloggers) in the travel space: developing characters beyond just the narrator.
Part 3 was an even deeper dive into character, deconstructing the way physical descriptions can lead to an emotional resonance, when done skillfully.
Part 4 looked at the overall process of travel journalism, likening it to production and post-production, and how pros know their subject going in.

Part 5 was about the open-ended question: “What makes a travel story?” and explored the concept of locating oneself as a tool for digging deeper into your subject and finding stronger stories.

We’ll be tweeting several questions and then discussing / RT’ing different answers during the Twitter chat around these concepts, as well as others. This is your opportunity to pose questions for MatadorU faculty. Questions on how to pitch stories? What we (and other editors) are looking for? Questions on characters, narrative elements, dialogue, etc.?

Join us by using the hashtag #MatUTalks. Eager to get a question to us now, and have us discuss it during the chat? Leave it for us in the comments below! We look forward to chatting with you.

Mapped: Google autocompletes, Europe

WHAT DOES GOOGLE THINK we want to know when we search for information on Europe?

I Googled every country on the continent and built this map, so I consider myself an expert. Google’s autocomplete feature thinks we want to know which countries are closing prisons, which are boring, why countries exist at all, who is nonreligious, and who is in the Eurovision this year. Also, Slovakia is not Slovenia and Slovenia is a good example of a nation state.

Mouse over the countries in the map below to see a sample of Google’s autocomplete.

Africa is a hotbed of innovation

I ALWAYS THOUGHT it was interesting how almost all of the people in the village of Atabu, Ghana (where I lived in 2007), had a cell phone, but lived in single-room houses, or didn’t have running water. Western societies live by their cell phones, but even with new apps and system upgrades, are our SMARTphones really that intelligent?

South African journalist Toby Shapshak believes that Africa is one of the leading locations for innovative technology, but that the stigma of poverty, illness and instability (and possibly also racism) is what keeps investors at bay. Yet relocating technology hubs to Africa is certainly something to think about; resources on earth keep shrinking, yet much of Africa is still undeveloped.

Shapshak notes that the “purest form of innovation, is out of necessity,” and goes on to explain why that is the difference between Westernized societies (who spend more time creating mindless games like Angry Birds) and technology developed within the African continent (who had SMS-based payment systems years before Square and Intuit came on to the market). It will be interesting to see how influential the African market becomes in the next few years, and which companies will boom from directly investing.

How to explain long-term travel in a job interview

Photo: bark

Traveling the world was probably a lot harder than you’d imagined, and now that you’re back, you find yourself in need of a job. You may be disheartened to learn that, in spite of your new-found appreciation for full-time work, basic possessions, and a permanent living situation, coming back and convincing employers to hire you can be the biggest challenge of all.

In places like the US, with a permanently recessed economy in which companies are not growing, a surplus of workers unable or unwilling to retire, devalued academic credentials, and exploitative entry-level wages, starting a career was already hard enough.

And now, with this suspicious void on your resume, how can you pick up where you left off?

Be honest and sincere.

Employers appreciate those who accept responsibility for their actions. If you went abroad on impulse, own up to it. Tell them why your life sucked at home. If you honestly didn’t see yourself at that job for a long period of time, tell them why. No chance of advancement? No raise in two years? Worked for a pathetic salary? Moral or ethical issues? They’ll want to know, honestly, why you left. Chances are, the reasons were more legitimate than you think.

Highlight positive experiences.

Those who traveled abroad exclusively for a job, such as the Peace Corps, would have a new credential that looks excellent on paper — even if it was really just a guise for the freedom to explore. Others who traveled on their own terms will have to get more creative.

Most long-term travelers have worked and volunteered at least once in some form. Be sure to point out, among your smorgasbord of life experiences from the road, any tangible skills that translate to the job.

Downplay the questionable ones.

Employers would not be impressed to know how you’ve invested a lot of time and money to improve your skill in an aggressive and dangerous form of Polynesian dancing, for example. The things that will not directly benefit them and could be interpreted as negative character attributes due to associated stereotypes — leave those out.

Study the rhetoric.

You made and sold jewelry? Sole Proprietor. Did work exchanges at hostels? Hospitality Associate. Dug holes and weeded? Experienced Landscaper. Find the right words to convey your experiences in a way that makes you a viable product for this business to purchase.

Put it all in context.

Like any transformative experience, extended travel takes a long time to process — could be a year, could be a decade. What you need is psychic distance. So it might be difficult to say exactly “what you were doing,” as people love to ask, or “why” you did what you did.

These questions can quickly become philosophical and difficult. When you finally do get it, write a memoir. Until then, in your interviews for jobs to make a living, compose phrases like, “I wanted to go abroad before I settled down,” which tell an employer that you did what you needed to do, and now that it’s out of your system, you’re even more employable than before you left.

Believe in travel.

You read Matador. That’s a good first step. Keep reading travel. Read Pico Iyer. Read Whitman. Whoever it is that speaks to you. Absorb their philosophy as if your life depended on it, and then sit down and write your own. Carry influential essays and poetry with you everywhere you go. Practice with friends and family and strangers explaining ‘why we travel.’ Believe in yourself, and don’t forget how it felt to be there, doing it, living the dream.

Because it may come up in the interview: the legitimacy of travel as a worthwhile pursuit. If it does, consider it a red flag towards that business’s culture — but still explain how you feel, that, as 21st-century humans, there still exist aspects of our lives other than those that equate to social production, and that in the grand scheme, travel leads to a great deal of wisdom and contentment. If this sentiment doesn’t appeal to an employer, they’re not worth working for anyway.

World Down Syndrome Day is Mar 21

I’M NOT CRYING…it’s just been raining on my face. (I can’t take credit for that one — that’s Flight of the Conchords.) Actually, I can’t lie…I did tear up, right at the end with the scenes of the moms hugging their kids.

This Friday, March 21, 2014 is World Down Syndrome Day. It’s the ninth year since it started. From the official website:

Down Syndrome International encourages our friends all over the world to choose your own activities and events to help raise awareness of what Down syndrome is, what it means to have Down syndrome, and how people with Down syndrome play a vital role in our lives and communities. We will share your WDSD World Events on our dedicated WDSD website in a single global meeting place.

My partner works closely with adults with Down Syndrome and other cognitive learning disabilities. In a nutshell, she helps them find meaningful work in the community. She tells me funny, heartwarming, poignant, deep stories from her time with them. She tells me how much she learns from them about life. I’d never had any close contact with anyone with Down Syndrome before, but recently I’ve had the opportunity to spend some time with a 28-year-old. We’ve all played games together, gone to a movie, bowled, and just hung out. He’s a hard worker, holding down multiple jobs; he’s hilarious; and he’s clever.

When we went bowling, he never got upset with himself when he threw gutter balls, nor got frustrated when others bowled strikes and scored higher points. When it was his turn to bowl he stood at the line with the focus of an Olympic athlete. Whatever the result was, he smiled. He had fun just playing, and he celebrated with everyone else when others did well. It can be so refreshing stepping into the world of someone who sees life differently, who isn’t bitter and jaded from a culture that pressures us to be competitive and individualistic.

The message is simple: Those born with Down Syndrome have just as much a right to a healthy and fulfilling life as anyone else.