Niall Doherty's Blog, page 210

Wake

A few months back, after stepping off a sailboat from Colombia to Panama, I met a man in the coastal town of Portobelo. His name was Jack, and he ran a hostel there. Jack is in his sixties now. He has the air of a man at peace with himself.

Things were different fifteen years ago. Jack was vice-president of a big chemicals company in the United States. He was over-worked and out of shape. Eventually he ended up in the hospital having open-heart surgery. He healed well, but the ordeal was a wake-up call.

Jack quit his job and bought a sail boat. He took that boat around the world, stopping off at more than fifty countries along the way. Then he settled in Panama and opened several small businesses.

Jack told me about his circumnavigation. “You have to cross your wake,” he said, referring to the disturbed flow of water left behind a moving sail boat. “It doesn’t count until you cross your wake.”

I write this on the ferry from Cherbourg to Rosslare. It’s been 44 months since I set out from Ireland, in my own attempt to circumnavigate the globe without flying.

Jack took one sailboat. I’ve taken 99 buses, 82 trains, 70 taxis, 27 ferries, 21 tuk-tuks, 10 cars, 7 motorcycles, 3 bicycles, 3 cruises, a sailboat and a cargo ship.

Later today I’ll be home, my trip at an end, my wake having been crossed.

T.S. Eliot once wrote, “We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

I don’t consider this day to be the end of all my exploring, but it’s certainly the end of a significant chapter of my life. I expect I’ll get a sense of what T.S. was waxing on about these next couple of weeks back in Ireland.

The word “wake” has another meaning of course, especially where I’m from.

When an Irish person died back in the day, the body would be kept on display at their house until the burial. Friends and relatives would sit around and tell stories and drink copious amounts of alcohol. It was more a celebration of the life of the deceased than a mourning of their passing.

The past week, traveling up through Spain and France, I’ve been doing a few interviews with newspapers and radio stations back in Ireland. In that wake-like way, it’s keeping my thoughts focused on the joys of a journey gone by when it’s all too easy to get caught up in what comes next.

My cousin once told me about a friend of his in Cork. Back in the 80’s, with all the invincibility of youth, this friend took off cycling from Ireland to Lapland and then all the way down to Sudan. He told my cousin that it wasn’t until years later that he fully appreciated that journey and how it had shaped him.

When you see the word “wake”, you also think of awakening. The last 3.5 years have certainly been that for me.

Having traveled through some of the poorest parts of the world, I’m much more appreciative of the fact that I was a lottery winner at birth, lucky enough to be born a white male to good parents in the Western World, and thereby endowed with more privilege than the vast majority of people living on this giant space rock.

Try being a black man looking for a date in Bangkok, or an Asian-American trying to get a job teaching English in Busan, or a little old Iranian woman trying to move to the front of the line in Bandar Abbas, or a dark-skinned girl in Bombay. Then try being any of those people with shitty parents and little education.

Also, moving through 37 countries in 44 months will give you a different perspective on family and community. In some ways I’m more independent than ever, in other ways less. I’ve endured severe bouts of loneliness the last couple of years, and now want nothing more than to stay in one place for an extended spell and make relationships a priority, to spend significant time with a small group of close friends and laugh and cry together like only good friends can.

You may know that I broke my no-fly rule one time these past 3.5 years. Last August I flew round-trip from Rio to spend a week in Ireland, surprising my dad for his 60th birthday. I hadn’t seen him in three years. If you ask what’s been my favorite memory from this long, crazy trip around the world, I’ll tell you that it’s not the kindness I experienced in Iran or going trekking in the Himalayas or crossing the Pacific Ocean on a cargo ship or any of the other countless adventures I’ve had along the way.

No.

It was ringing the doorbell of my childhood home that August afternoon and seeing the look in one man’s eyes.

A friend once wrote to me that he realized not long after his son was born and his father passed that life is really all about spending time with the people you love. I think we all nod and agree when we hear that but few of us feel it in our daily bones and structure our lives accordingly.

Despite what I’ve written above, let me assure you that I don’t have any regrets from the past 3.5 years. I think regret is a silly thing. We look back and think, “Things would be better now if only I’d done this or that differently,” but there’s every chance that things would be worse. Who’s to know?

Through all my travels and experiences, I’ve become a different man, and I’m quite fond of that man, at peace with the path he chose and where it’s led.

Yes, there are definitely downsides to long-term world travel, some obvious and some less so. I’ll likely write more about them another time. But I hope my mention of such won’t put anyone off pursuing their own big dream, travel-related or otherwise. You lay down a bedrock of self-assurance and self-respect when you take on a big dream and don’t quit until you capture it. Whatever else happens afterward, you can always look back with pride on what you accomplished, your heart kept warm with the memories.

Anyway, I’ll stop there for now.

I’ve crossed my wake, my eyes are open, and I’m finally home.

I Met A Man In Isfahan

First in Dublin, as I was heading out the door, an old teacher bought me dinner, appearing as he never had before.

I met a man in Durham, also working on a dream. Not long after he took the leap. He’s now in Medellín.

I met a girl in Amsterdam, and I can’t forget her eyes. We laughed and we kissed and we rode our bikes, beneath those clear Dutch skies.

I met an old school chum in Frankfurt, and he hosted me for a spell. We talked of change and adventure, and how to live life well.

I crashed with a couple in Zurich, friends from conscious growth. I wish I’d stayed in touch more since, kind as they were both.

Off the train for a cold day in Vienna, and I gave a CouchSurfer a shout. We had coffee in a house named after Albert, but I forget what we talked about.

I met a man in Hungary, who’d had quite the fascinating quest. Broke just a year before, he’d built himself a fine nest.

I met a girl in Romania, whose secret I promised never to reveal. The story was written and ready to spread, but my conscience kept it sealed.

I met a man in Istanbul, who soaped me up and spun me like a top. He flashed a grin and asked for a tip, when the bath had finally stopped.

I met a man in Isfahan, with a heart as big as the Kavir. Quick to dance and offer a hand, and even shed a tear.

I met a girl near Sharjah, the day after I turned three-oh. I took a leap and won her fair, but finished like a schmo.

I met a man in Delhi, and asked if he liked his job. “I feed my family and work inside, what is there not to love?”

I met a lady in Kathmandu, who sold handbags on the street. She wore me down and I gave her cash, but her days stayed stuck on repeat.

I met a man in Kochi, three nations shy of them all. That historic feat he did achieve, while helping me cross the Bengal.

I met a man in Colombo, a reader of the blog. We walked around and saw a big elephant, chained to a little log.

I met a girl in Bangkok, like none I’d met before. We climbed and explored and fell in deep. Her I still adore.

I met a man in Cambodia, with his belly hanging out. He told me the bus would be there on time, but I was right to doubt.

I met a girl near the Mekong, and she got frisky with her paw. I grew red and backed away, because in Laos it’s against the law.

I met two girls in Hanoi, and they took me around the town. With all the traffic on those mad streets, twas a miracle we weren’t knocked down.

I met a man in Nanning, and he invited me out to feast. We went for the famous hot pot, and I ate the schlong of a beast.

I met a woman in Hong Kong, who taught us how to fight. She showed us a dozen ways to escape a choke, when a couple would have sufficed.

I met a girl in Chongqing, it started sweet but grew absurd. Within twelve hours of meeting, she whispered three little words.

I met a girl in Busan, and she was great company. We met again another time, but we should have let it be.

I met a man in the Pacific, a member of the crew. He’d stop and think for a second, when you asked him “How are you?”

I met a man in Cusco, a schoolboy I’d once known. He’d built a business beautiful, a home away from home.

I met a man in Bolivia, when I was very short of breath. He drove me to the hospital, and I stayed away from death.

I met a girl in Salvador, who fell into my lap. If her father knew what we were doing, I would have felt his wrath.

I traveled with a girl through Venezuela, the best travel buddy you could know. We laughed through the discomfort, of several buses in a row.

I saw a man in Colombia, blind and lame as he sang aloud. I’ll never forget how happy he looked, music lifting him to the clouds.

I met a family in Panama, sailing through paradise. We stopped and swam with fancy fish, and I saw a sunken sight.

I met a man in San Jose, who’d come to learn the talk. He’d previously been in China, where he’d built a nice handwerk.

I met a man in San Juan, fascinated by the brain. “For every thought you think,” he said, “it changes once again.”

I met a girl in Honduras, as we were bussing through. She might have wanted the same as me, but I was too scared to pursue.

I met a man in Antigua, who had his life planned out. “It’s not what you can add,” he said, “but what you can do without.”

I met a girl in Mexico, with colors in her hair. It wasn’t fear that got me that time. I just didn’t really care.

I met two men in New Orleans, and we did ten nights on the trot. Through some of them I felt like a champ, through others I was distraught.

I met a couple in the Atlantic, as I was planning my next step. “We know you from the blog,” they said. “We have also leapt.”

I met a man in Funchal, spending a day off of the ship. A thousand taxis on that rock, so we gave him a nice tip.

I met a man in Barcelona, working on his game. Just when I thought I’d packed it in, I wanted to do the same.

I met a girl in Paris, and she took me to see the sights. Fancy buildings and beautiful landmarks, but it was the company I most liked.

And now I’m on the ferry home, to the road I’ll say so long. Thanks to all I met en route, who made me feel like I belong. And to all who read my words and wished me well, thanks for following along.

Pause Points

I think we can all agree that it’s good to be more present, more aware, more in the moment.

But how do we do that?

Being more present is a habit, and every habit needs a trigger, something that acts as a regular reminder for us to stop and breathe and feel the moment.

What trigger can we use to build the presence habit?

I’m sure you can come up with plenty of trigger ideas. Here are a couple to get you started:

1) Traffic lights

Whether on foot or in a car, use stop lights as a reminder to pause and become aware of your breath. I love slowing down at an orange light instead of speeding up, letting others rush by as they try to save an extra minute. When you do this it feels a bit like you’re on to a secret nobody else knows: that there’s no major hurry.

2) Stuck in traffic

Again, this works whether you’re on foot or in a car. I sometimes catch myself getting frustrated when someone is walking slowly in front of me and blocking the footpath, or when someone cuts me off. But I now use those occasions as a trigger. They remind me to slow down and become more present.

I call these triggers pause points. Feel free to share your own in the comments.

11 Tips To Survive A Long Bus Journey

The past few years, I’ve taken a lot of long bus journeys, including scores of overnight buses, several lasting 24 hours or more. It’s what you gotta do if you want to travel around the world without flying.

It was tough in the beginning, but nowadays long bus trips don’t phase me at all. 30 hours from Fortaleza to Belem? No problem. Overnight from New Orleans to Orlando? Bring it on. I even did three overnight buses in a row through Venezuela last year.

If you have a long bus trip coming up, try these tips to ensure your survival:

1. Listen

In advance of your trip, load up a few lengthy podcasts or audio books. The Joe Rogan Experience is my favorite podcast to listen to on a bus. Episodes run 2-3 hours each.

2. Read

I used to think reading on buses was off the cards for me because I would suffer from motion sickness, but I trained myself to overcome that. Here’s what you do:

Read until you start to feel woozy.
Stop, relax, and take some deep breaths until you feel okay again.
Repeat.

This worked for me, and it didn’t take very long to kill my motion sickness completely.

As for what to read, I love a good book of course (see my recommendations on Goodreads), but I also like to send the Wikipedia and Wikitravel articles for my destination city and country to my Kindle and read those while in transit.

3. Talk

If you’re traveling with a friend, you’ll have plenty of time to chat about anything and everything. If you’re traveling alone in a foreign country, a long bus trip can be a great opportunity to practice your language skills with the locals, or just make new friends.

4. Meditate

Meditation is a practice which helps you develop such skills as happiness, compassion, and resilience (yes, those are skills). Whether you’re already a meditator or just a beginner, you’ll have plenty of down-time on a long bus ride to practice.

(If you don’t know where to start with meditation, I highly recommend Dan Harris’s book, 10% Happier.)

5. Sleep

Overnight bus trips are great because you can sleep through and save on a night’s accommodation. Some buses will have nice sleeper seats/berths where you can recline or lay down flat. Other times you’ll just have to make do sleeping in a regular bus seat.

I used to believe I couldn’t sleep well on buses. As with overcoming motion sickness, however, I was able to train myself to do it. Using earplugs or listening to podcasts can help you drift off.

6. Look

If it’s a daytime trip, look out the window and appreciate the scenery. I’ll never forget waking up on a bus from Lima to Cusco in Peru and being wowed by the spectacular view of the mountains.

7. Fast

This won’t help you with boredom, but for a while now I’ve been fasting on long bus journeys and have found it very beneficial. Not only are there numerous health benefits to intermittent fasting 1, but it also saves you money buying crappy food at expensive rest stops, and you won’t need to use the toilet so much. You also get to practice patience and self-discipline.

Plus, you can look forward to a nice big meal to break the fast when you arrive at your destination.

8. Play

Bring some playing cards with you and play a card game with friends or strangers. If in a foreign country, you could have someone show you how to play a local card game.

Assuming you have someone to play with, you can also play games that don’t require anything but your imagination. One of my favorites is called, “Would you rather…”, which requires you to come up two options and ask another person to choose between them.

Example: would you rather have a leg for an arm or an arm for a leg?

9. Stretch

Stand up and stretch every so often. Get off the bus at rest stops and stretch your legs a bit.

10. Write

Spend some time writing whatever you want. Pen and paper or laptop. If you’re worried about motion sickness, the aforementioned tips apply.

11. Watch

If you’ve got a laptop or tablet or something along those lines, you can have a movie or TV show loaded up in advance and wile away an hour or two watching that. Some buses will have a movie playing, and some will even have personal media screens, but don’t count on them being available.

Anything to add?

If you have a survival tip I didn’t mention, I’d love to hear it in the comments below.

Momentos: April 16th – April 30th, 2015

16.

People sometimes ask if I’m doing this trip around the world without airplanes because I dislike flying. But that’s not it. Few people appreciate flying as much as I do. Or airports. Like the one I’m in now, standing at arrivals, watching families and lovers reunite. They let their guard down for a few seconds, and you can see what really matters.

17.

Picking up the rental car, I get chatting about my travels with a chap named Jay at the front desk. He’s blown away by this working-online-from-anywhere thing, like it’s far beyond his reality. But he seems like a smart dude. He knows how to work a computer. He’s fluent in English and Spanish. Absolutely no reason why he can’t do similar.

18.

I’m getting better at watching my thoughts and emotions. The past couple of days, driving down through Florida, visiting places like West Palm Beach and Miami, seeing all the plush houses and fancy cars, I notice discomfort. It’s as if I have an aversion to wealth. Or maybe it’s just grand displays of wealth. Hopefully the latter, because I fully intend to be rich.

19.

I arrived in the Americas thirteen months ago on a giant freighter. I leave atop one of the biggest cruise ships in the world, floating out to sea with a view of South Beach, past million dollar homes on private islands, jet skis buzzing around like flies, wind surfers and paddle boarders in the distance, sun low enough to make for an interesting sky.

20.

The perfect morning begins at 6:30 a.m., a spectacular sunrise on display as I head to the well-equipped gym for stretching and free weights, followed by a twenty-minute meditation session out on deck with an Atlantic breeze. Then it’s basketball drills on an empty court, a quick shower, and a slow breakfast over a good book.

Overlooking South Beach as we cruise out of the US.

21.

Upping the meditation to twenty minutes per day aboard this cruise. I’ve been reading a few books on the topic, such as 10% Happier (highly recommended). Sitting in silence out on deck this morning, I let my itches go unscratched and watched as they took care of themselves. There’s probably a life lesson there.

22.

I’ve been recognized a handful of times from the blog. The best was the guy in Hong Kong who approached me while standing in line at the supermarket. I never thought I’d be recognized on this cruise, where 59 is the age of the average passenger. But I was wrong: Anita and her husband are fellow bloggers and have been traveling the world for 2.5 years.

23.

You can bleed money on one of these cruises if you’re not careful. The initial fee was cheap enough ($750 per person), but there’s a daily service charge of $13 a head, $120 for their cheapest massage, $180 a week for unlimited slow internet, and it’ll cost you $5 for every t-shirt you want laundered. I’ll do without the massage, stay offline, and wash my socks and jocks in the sink.

24.

Some people say every place has a personality. Machu Picchu feels spiritual. The house down the road gives you chills. New Orleans has a soulful vibe. I rarely pick up on that kind of thing. If the Atlantic feels different to the Pacific, I haven’t noticed. That said, I like to think such vibes are real. Perhaps I just need more practice, more presence to feel them.

25.

I’ve been spending a lot of time on this cruise working on my life plan, figuring out my goals, priorities, what my days will look like once settled in Amsterdam. It’s all very idealistic at the moment — plenty of time set aside for reading, meditation, reflection — but that’s okay. As Eisenhower once wrote, “Plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.”

A day off the ship in Funchal, on the Portuguese island of Medeira.

26.

Our seventh consecutive day at sea. They put on some good shows here every evening, all complimentary. The last two nights we’ve seen comedy. Tonight was improv, and they did a great job of it. Took me back to my days in NOLA when I dipped a toe in the improv waters, learned about yes-and, free-falling, and invisible children.

27.

A day off the ship in Medeira, a Portuguese island a few hundred miles off the coast of Morocco. This counts as country #35 on the trip. I’m impressed with Funchal, the biggest city on this rock. Beautiful views, flowers everywhere, a good mix of worlds old and new. We walk the clean streets and visit the botanical gardens, me butchering the local lingo all the while.

28.

One of the best things about this cruise has been lots of time to read. Mockingbird was remarkable, Jules Evans’s school of philosophy is mesmerizing, and so far so good with the mayor’s bio of Winston Churchill. I’m realizing that the ideal lifestyle I’m seeking to create for myself must involve at least an hour a day to simply sit and read a book.

29.

We’re in the Mediterranean now, breezed past the Rock of Gibraltar late last night. The waters are calmer here. We catch glimpses of the Spanish coast and see plenty of ships throughout the day. In a little more than two weeks I should be home in Ireland, this 3.5-year journey at an end. But it’s not excitement that I feel. More a sense of peace.

30.

I could talk about Barcelona, which is fantastic on first impression, but what’s on my mind more is self-esteem. Branden writes about the gap between what we think and how we act. Thinking one thing and doing another, not being true to yourself. That’s what kills self-esteem. Lately, I’ve been stepping up my efforts to close that gap.

Arriving in Barcelona. You can see a bunch more pics from my cruise across the Atlantic over on Facebook.

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

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Acknowledge

From the book 10% Happier by Dan Harris:

“I instituted a make-eye-contact-and-smile policy that turned out to be genuinely enjoyable. It was like I was running for mayor. The fact that my days now included long strings of positive interactions made me feel good (not to mention popular). Acknowledging other people’s basic humanity is a remarkably effective way of shooing away the swarm of self-referential thoughts that buzz like gnats around our heads.”

I’m writing this on my eighth consecutive day aboard a cruise ship crossing the Atlantic Ocean. I’ve been trying to institute the make-eye-contact-and-smile policy myself. Usually I throw in a nod, too.

There are plenty of opportunities to practice aboard this ship, with something like ten thousand eyes along for the ride.

Many people return my look and smile as we pass each other by. Some beat me to the punch. Others blank me.

Blanking is a funny thing. From the point of view of the person being blanked, you feel invisible, unimportant, irrelevant. Another human being just walked on by and it was as if they didn’t notice you, or didn’t care that you were there.

I get it though. I’ve blanked many people in the past (and still fall back into it occasionally). It usually happens when I’m feeling overly self-conscious. I’m scared of being rejected (the other person not returning my acknowledgement), and then feeling embarrassed.

Some days I don’t care about rejection and embarrassment. Other days I do. But I’m making an effort to acknowledge people every day regardless of how I’m feeling.

I’m doing so because I want to live in a world where people acknowledge each other.

I once lived in an apartment complex in Ireland where residents would stare at the ground and not say a word as they crossed paths coming in and out of the building. I found that very discomforting. These were neighbors, often seeing each other a few times a week, and they didn’t acknowledge each other’s basic humanity.

Think of how it feels when someone does offer you up a warm smile and a friendly hello, no strings attached. Compare that to someone looking away as they pass you by, as if making a determined effort not to acknowledge you. Or someone who just stares straight ahead, as if you don’t exist.

I want to be that first someone. I want to live in a world where he’s everywhere, a world where everyone feels more worthwhile, connected, acknowledged.

Of course, we can’t acknowledge everyone in every situation. Sometimes it’s impossible (e.g. walking down a busy street), other times it’s just weird (e.g. trying to acknowledge every stranger in a restaurant).

In certain situations it can even be dangerous. I’m thinking of smiling and nodding at the sketchy dude standing on the street corner for the past half hour, or a lone woman making eye contact and smiling at a man she passes on a dark street.

Such situations aside though, there’s really no excuse. Whenever you pass a person by, sit down beside someone, or join people in an elevator, offer up a little acknowledgement.

Make eye contact and smile. Give them a friendly nod. Say hello.

To me, it’s the simplest thing we can do to make the world a better place.

Which Problems Can You Live With?

A nonessentialist approaches every trade-off by asking, “How can I do both?” An essentialist asks the tougher but ultimately more liberating question, “Which problem do I want?”

The above passage from Greg McKeown’s book Essentialism struck me as profound. I tend to take on too many projects and spread myself too thin. In fact, that’s probably the primary reason I haven’t had the business success I was hoping for the past few years.

I believe the tendency to take on too much and become too scattered can be attributed to the desire to avoid problems. But as McKeown notes, problems can’t be avoided. Not all of them. Because there are always more problems out there in the world (or even just in our individual lives) than we can possibly solve. We like to think we can do it all, but we can’t. Trade-offs must be made.

So the question we should ask ourselves when we’re feeling overwhelmed isn’t, “How can I get everything done?” It’s, “Which problems can I live with?”

Tackle the problems you find unbearable. Forget the rest.

Momentos: April 1st – April 15th, 2015

1.

I once met a guy in Budapest. He was like an Australian Brad Pitt, and super cool to boot. I remember thinking, “If I have any gay tendencies, this man should bring them out.” But there was nothing, no attraction. And so I concluded once and for all that women were the only creatures who could do it for me. Now, three years later, in this bar in the Bywater, I’m having to rethink that.

2.

Low energy the past couple of weeks, sleeping a lot more than usual, and productivity has slowed quite a bit. I’m trying to ride the wave instead of fighting it. February and most of March was a flow, right now is the ebb. So I’ll sleep in if I feel like it, take some naps, give myself a break for not being as disciplined as usual. Everything comes and everything goes.

3.

The lads down at Clay Square sure do talk a lot. Some can ball, but most are pretty bad, and lazy. Yet they still talk themselves up. Incessantly. Words from Bertrand Russell come to mind: “The fundamental cause of trouble in the world today is that the stupid are cocksure while the intelligent are full of doubt.” Of course, I could be wrong about that

4.

I stop for a few minutes in the middle of a neutral ground cutting through Cadiz. It’s close to midnight and the city seems sleepy. I stay there, just breathing, feeling a breeze. Somehow, in these moments, it’s easy not to think. I move on and two blocks down pass an elderly man wearing a cowboy hat, standing on his porch. I speak to him, and he speaks to me.

5.

I’m writing a guide about working online. I had a step-by-step freelancing plan in mind, for people who aren’t very computer savvy, who have little/no qualifications. Then I realized I was making a ton of assumptions. The plan sounds good, but I haven’t tested it. So I’ve started a little experiment, coaching a handful of people to earn $10/hour online within three months.

Sunset in New Orleans

6.

Meditating in the living room. A thought sneaks in: what if she walks in and sees me sitting here, doing nothing? Won’t she think I’m weird? I catch that thought and break it apart. Where did it come from? Why the concern? I realize it stems from my teenage years, when I was teased quite a bit for anything out of the ordinary. The kid inside me is still scared to defy expectations.

7.

Generally, upon entering a new situation, I’ll take a wait-and-see approach. I look around to see what behavior is acceptable. Even playing basketball, I’ll usually let others set the tone, then see how I can fit in. This can be an advantage in some situations, though not so much on the court. But I wonder: is this tendency natural, or habitual?

8.

Twelve years ago, back in Ireland, I started a little website about my favorite basketball team. I left it in capable hands when I waved goodbye to New Orleans five years ago. Now they have giant watch parties that players and staff sometimes attend, and they exchange emails with the team’s front office. Nice work, Bourbon Street Shots.

9.

Putting together another travel presentation for tomorrow, going back through my photos and Facebook posts from the past four years on the road. Man, some good memories there. Easy to forget sometimes, all the paths crossed, sights seen, breaths taken. It’s been a blast. Even the down times. Those were beautiful, too.

10.

I’m falling in love with The Moth, and live storytelling in general. This one is a gem, makes me think of my cousin and appreciate parenting all the more. I stood up and told some stories to a bunch of people tonight, including my favorite memory from the four years past. A few words, about home and family, made a grown woman cry.

Pelicans watch party in New Orleans, courtesy of Bourbon Street Shots.

11.

There’s that hole again, that empty feeling. And my brain’s eager to slap a band-aid on it. Maybe junk food, maybe a movie, maybe that girl I hung out with last night. But no, fuck all of that. Brendan Behan once wrote, “At the innermost core of all loneliness is a deep and powerful yearning for union with one’s lost self.” So let me sit with this a while.

12.

Kelly McGonigal calls it the what-the-hell effect, when you stumble just a little and then say, “You know what, fuck it, I might as well derail this whole damn train!” That’s why you don’t just break your diet with one cookie; you eat the entire pack, and then another. I could very easily have derailed my whole damn train today, but knowledge is power.

13.

Lots of goodbyes this week, leaving this city in two days. I’m ready though. I used to consider New Orleans a second home, but I realize now that home is more about time than place. Stay away from anywhere long enough and familiarity fades. It’s not this city that I love, but the feeling that I once belonged.

14.

I sit and watch ten people tell stories in a packed little theater on St. Claude, thinking there’s a lot of power in a story well told. Makes me want to get back into speaking. But I’ll hold off, for now at least. Greg McKeown has been drilling it into me that I can’t, in fact, have it all. Or in the words of Thomas Sowell: “There are no solutions. There are only trade-offs.”

15.

11:59 p.m. as the megabus pulls out. My last day in New Orleans, and it was a good one. Lunch with the first friend I ever had in this town, then a surprise invite to the biggest ballgame of the season, free food and great seats, home team coming through in the clutch. But it was easy to say goodbye. I woke up this morning excited, ready for the home stretch.

Great seats for my last night in town. Thanks, Gilbert!

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

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The Holy Trinity Of Productivity: Apply These 3 Strategies Simultaneously And See What Happens

I’ve found this combination of productivity strategies to be very effective for me:

Set the bar very low.
Have someone hold you accountable.
Set a harsh penalty.

For the past few months, this combination has helped me write for at least 30 minutes every day (since December), and stretch for at least 5 minutes every day (since February).

1. Set the bar very low

You want to make it very easy to succeed. Even if it’s a big goal you’re working towards, break it down into small, easily-manageable chunks. Then just tackle one chunk per day.

For example, I have a goal to produce some handy guides related to travel and working online. So far I’ve put together 120+ pages of content. That didn’t happen with one big push. Instead, back in December, I vowed to write for at least 30 minutes per day.

30 minutes per day isn’t a big deal. I can sit down and write for 30 minutes no matter what. I won’t always write something worthwhile in those 30 minutes, but I’ll always nudge the project at least an inch or two in the right direction.

After four months, that has added up to 120+ pages.

2. Have someone hold you accountable

Living in New Orleans for the past few months, I knew I was in danger of gaining a few pounds with all the good eating on offer. I didn’t have a lot of time to exercise, so I set another small goal: stretch for at least 5 minutes every day.

I knew that if I made myself stretch for 5 minutes, I’d most likely do a few push-ups and situps as well, which is indeed what usually happens. I end up stretching and exercising for closer to 10 minutes each day.

But I don’t trust myself to stay disciplined all by my lonesome.

To make sure I would actually follow through with my goals and not make excuses, I needed some accountability. So I roped in a friend to help. The deal was that I had to email him every day detailing what stretching/exercise routine I had done, along with a screenshot of the writing I had done that day.

And if I didn’t send him that email…

3. Set a harsh penalty

…I would face a $1,000 penalty, payable to my friend, for him to do with as he pleased.

Now $1,000 is a lot of money to me. And that’s the point. There’s no way I’m going to let myself fail. Because getting up off my ass and spending 30 minutes writing and 5 minutes stretching each day is waaaaaay less painful than losing $1,000.

There have been days where I have left it late to email my friend. I might get in at 2am from a night out, with my writing and stretching still to be done. And it crosses my mind that I could skip it just this once, but then I remember the cost and I suck it up and put in the work.

What’s your goal?

Let me know your goal in the comments below. Then apply the three strategies I shared above. Tell me:

How can you break that goal down into something small that you can do frequently (ideally every day)?
Who can you get to hold you accountable?
What penalty can you set that’s so painful there’s no way you’ll let yourself fail?

Momentos: March 16th – March 31st, 2015

16.

Here I am at a strip club on Bourbon, because it’s my 33rd and the lads insisted. They set me up for a private dance with Nina, a cute black gal with an ass like a jackhammer. But strip clubs weird me out, full of fake smiles and desperation. Here’s me in a back room with Nina’s ass in my hands and her tits in my face and nare a twitch in my pants.

17.

Our seventh night out in a row. With this immersion thing, mistakes stack up fast. Harder to ignore and easier to fix. I’ve also noticed that the lulls never last. Like tonight, at about 1:30 a.m., all I wanted was to quit and go home. But I made myself stick it out. Sure enough, my energy soon bounced back and then there was dancing and karaoke and a girl named Tinkerbell.

18.

In the supermarket, just approached, wondering now why she’s looking at me funny. “Wow, you really don’t remember, do you?” Takes a minute, but the penny finally drops. She’s the hostess I met on a cigarette break on Frenchmen two nights back. “So you hit on every girl you see, is that it?” Not every girl, I tell her. Just the really pretty ones.

19.

7 a.m. Niraj on the couch, Shane and myself kicked back on the air mattress, exchanging old war stories and laughing our asses off. We haven’t been to bed yet, spent the night cycling around Walmart and doing the usual on Bourbon. It’s been a great week with these lads. Shane leaves town later today. We might meet again in Amsterdam.

20.

Niraj will be on a plane before sunrise, rampage almost over. We spend the day challenging strangers and handing out $5 bills. Secrets spilled, proposals made, spontaneous dance parties unleashed. We have more fun than most with less money and no alcohol. Later we run into the twosome we messed up with last night, same mistake will not be made twice.

St. Patrick’s Day revelry on the Canal Street streetcar

21.

After ten straight days of being super-social, I’m all socialed out. I make my way through the Quarter to collect the bikes. Hot women all around, and I don’t talk to any of them. It’s not approach anxiety that stops me; I just need to let my introverted side breathe a while. And I’m glad I recognize this. Younger me would have felt like a failure.

22.

I slept for eleven hours today, then went and caught a movie at the Prytania. Weaving a bicycle home after midnight, past porched houses and live oaks and across streetcar lines, Venus hanging in the sky alongside a crescent moon… I’m happy to be here, but catch myself wondering if I’ll outlive this city, or if this city will outlive me.

23.

Given all the efforts made in recent weeks, I haven’t had a lot of success with women. Trying to put my ego aside and figure out why. I’m probably too eager, looking for quick connections instead of taking my time and letting things build more naturally. It’s tough though when I know I’ll be leaving town soon. Everything seems so urgent.

24.

Life does seem to be speeding up. Hard to believe I left high school fifteen years ago, my day job almost five years back. Even South America is beginning to feel like a distant memory. I wonder if time will slow down when I do, if staying put in one spot for a stretch will make the months last longer. I hope so.

25.

Back in the stands watching grown men chase a ball. I must have been to 100+ games at this arena. This scene is what first brought me to New Orleans, to live the bejesus out of a teenage dream. Everything is different now. The team has a new name, as does the arena. I barely recognize a face. I barely recognize myself. Who was that young man who lived for basketball?

Giving away $100 on the streets of New Orleans. Lots more photos on Facebook.

26.

Trying to be more present. I get caught up in my head a lot. Recognized it big-time last week hanging around with Niraj. There’s a man who lives in the moment, sometimes to his own detriment. But I could do with shifting more towards his end of the spectrum, not getting caught up in old plans, accepting and embracing whatever the now throws my way.

27.

I was asked yesterday if it was lonely crossing the Pacific. Twenty-six days on a cargo ship? That was solitude. Loneliness is being surrounded by lots of people you don’t know, and who don’t know you. Even here in New Orleans, a city I could almost call home, I feel it. Stay away for four years and sure, people will remember you, some fondly. But nobody really knows you anymore.

28.

I’m at a dance performance on St. Claude. It’s about a gay club in the Quarter named The UpStairs Lounge. Someone burned it down in 1973 and killed 32 people. It’s still the worst attack on the LGBT community in US history. Several of the bodies weren’t claimed, and there was no official announcement by the city condemning the attack. Humans make me sad sometimes.

29.

Two and a half weeks left in New Orleans. I’m trying really hard to be here, now. It’s tempting to look ahead to Amsterdam, getting settled, having a home, building deep relationships. I have to stop myself from looking up apartments online, try to smile and fit in with the guys at the crawfish boil. But it’s tough. This freedom has become a cage.

30.

Basketball mirrors life. Some guys love drama, argue every call, while others try to be fair. Some drive strong, others shy away from contact. Some taunt, others encourage. Some have too much swagger and too little game, others vice versa. Me? I tend to overthink and rush the play, but I’ll gladly guard their best player. I might get shook, but I’ll also get better.

31.

My first paid speaking gig, giving a talk about travel. It went pretty well, people seemed to enjoy it. I felt at ease up there. I’ve found that nerves aren’t much of a problem if I’m well prepared. If you wing it and bomb, you kick yourself, wish you’d done more. But if you do good prep and it still goes poorly, you can’t really be mad. You gave it your best shot.

Pelicans vs. Rockets NBA game in New Orleans.

In the comments below, let me know which of the above Momentos is your favorite. Which can you relate to?

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