Something beginning with 'C'

Getting there is half the fun. Playing ‘I spy’ is 67% of the fun of getting there, thus making it 33.5% of the total fun. Why cut yourself off from so much pleasure just because you’re stuck at home?

Come on: when was the last time you had a ripping round of ‘I spy’ at the office? With so much to spy, why wait another day? If you feel like movement is integral to the game’s success, whip up a game on the train to work: that first response may take a while to come, but once your fellow commuters get started they won’t be able to stop.

If ‘I spy’ just isn’t your speed, perhaps you could get your work team, tutorial group or knitting circle into a feverish bout of ‘I went to market and I bought a…’. Shirkers might be brought into line with a stern warning that memory games are a proven (and fun!) way to ward off Alzheimer’s.

Cut off from culture

Language isn’t the only barrier when you’re visiting another country. Even when they speak English, the shared experience that a people has of local news, television shows, ads, childhood toys and favourite foods can make you feel terribly excluded. Imagine, for example, coming to America and trying to have a conversation with someone when you’ve never heard of Lucky Charms, Saturday Night Live, ‘Where’s the beef?’ or Mouse Trap?

You’ve probably never noticed just how often you refer to popular culture, especially in conversations with people you don’t know that well. While there’s no way to wipe every Monty Python sketch or Simpsons episode from your mind, you can experiment with cutting yourself off from culture. You’ll find it doesn’t take long to feel the effects.

Here’s what you do: for two weeks, don’t watch TV, read the paper or look at the internet. That’s it. OK, now try and have a conversation at the water cooler, with your car pool, at playgroup or waiting for class. Good luck!

Speak to me

There are any number of frivolous ways to dabble in different cultures (see anything in this blog for example), but just for a minute, be serious. Please.

So much of traveling is about finding out how other people live: visiting tribes in the hills of Thailand, dancing with the locals in a bar in Nicaragua, renting an apartment for a couple of weeks in NYC. Knowing that things can be done differently gives us a fresh look at the way we do things. And sure, if you’re staying home you can have dinner in a Vietnamese restaurant or see a French film and get a little bit of that insight. Or you could become a volunteer English tutor for a recent migrant.

Do what now? Don’t you have to go to university for that?

You don’t. All over the country, community-based organisations train people to be volunteer English tutors: all it requires is a commitment of your time (try calling your local university, technical college, migrant centre or local government for more information). Even if there’s no such organization in your area or you don’t feel comfortable formally tutoring someone to speak English, lots of migrants really just want someone they can practise English with. All you have to do is have a little chat with them once a week or so. You can discuss football, cooking, weddings, what’s on TV or the country they’re from: whatever the two of you feel like talking about. Put up some notices around your local schools, shopping centres or cultural centres and see if anyone’s interested. Helping someone out with their English, seeing the way this improves their life, and at the same time finding out about a completely different way of living is one of the most rewarding experiences you can have.

Meet the locals, part 2

On a boring weekend, turn to the local newspaper’s community pages where organizations around town list the free or fund-raising activities they’re running this week. The chances of finding something you’d actually want to do are pretty slim, but try doing something you’d never have dreamed of doing.

Maybe the local hardware store is running an information session on how to fix a tap – not only will you gain a new skill, you’ll meet all those retired old guys who have nothing better to do than go to an information session on how to fix a tap. Maybe the local walking group is going for a hike out of town, giving you the chance to stretch your legs and have a chat with people who like wholewheat spaghetti and soy cheese. Or perhaps there’s a quilting show on at the town hall where you can adopt yourself a new grandma and get a few smocking tips.

There’s a good chance you’ll be bored out of your mind before half an hour has passed, but who knows: you might find that what your life has been missing all along is painting watercolors of dried flower arrangements. Either way, when your friends ask what you did on the weekend, you’ll have something to say.

Historical brain transplant

Maybe it’s not your home town you’re sick of. Maybe you’re sick of you. While the science of brain transplantation is not entirely perfected, there are other options for escaping the prison that is your skull (and no, we’re not talking about a ride on the peyote highway).

Instead of asking such vague questions as ‘What would Jesus do?’, try asking ‘What would Jesus do if he got to Kmart and the advertised special on fleece throw rugs was all sold out and the woman on the desk wouldn’t give him a raincheck and he was late for a meeting with his CEO?’. Or, for example, what would Genghis Khan do if he'd forgotten it was his four-year-old daughter's birthday this weekend and he had only two days to organise a children's party?

First, write the names of famous people on slips of paper. Second, write the names of places around town on other slips of paper. Randomly pull a slip from each bunch. What do you know: you’re Cleopatra, and you’re trying to buy a used car.

It might be pushing it to show up to the used car lot and pretend to be Cleopatra (but if you’re keen, hey, go for it!). But you might enjoy the exercise of doing everyday things while imagining you’re someone entirely different. For example, browse cupcake recipes online while imagining you’re Genghis Khan, then write up your experiences (as Genghis, of course) on your blog. Want more? Have all your friends choose a slip each from the ‘famous person’ pile, all visit the same spot from the ‘places in town’ pile, and each write up your experiences.

Taking care of business

You’ve just flown in and already the deliverables you’re enhancing are hung on a skyhook or outright left in the parking lot. You’ve got to ramp this baby up! You’ve got to get these offerings on the freeway! You’ve got plenty to envisage going forward, and all you want is some takeup of the best-of-breed product set. Let’s call a meeting!

The only thing cooler than a guy in a suit, sitting in a hotel bar, yelling on a cell phone, is eight guys in suits, sitting in a hotel bar, all simultaneously yelling on cell phones. Don’t you want to be one of those guys who flies into town to give a PowerPoint presentation? Well, don’t you?

Synchronise watches. You and your friends are going to put on your best suits (don’t have one? Try an op shop) and hit some downtown hotel for a breakfast meeting. The more upscale the hotel, the better: a Hilton or a Hyatt is just the ticket. Don’t forget your props: laptops if you have them, some kind of portable whiteboard, and your cell phones (extra points if you have a Bluetooth headset). If your own importance isn’t inspiration enough to get you diagramming, scoping future directions and visioning, then try giving yourselves a few tasks. You could have a prize for the first person who uses a sentence including functionality, user-defined, straw man, leading provider, monetise, robust and scalable, or give an award for best use of a noun as a verb, or verb as a noun (‘how are we matrixing this, Jeff?’ 'Well, Leon, that depends on how you action the learnings you've been tasked with').

Whatever you do, don’t forget: you are a Master of the Universe.

Hef you got a lassance fer theez minkey?

There’s nothing quite like getting off a plane (or a bus or a train) in a country where the only things you can say are ‘hello’, ‘thank you’ and—perhaps inadvertently—‘can I put my ferret in your handbag?’. The struggle to be understood makes babies of all of us, unable to get even something as simple as air conditioning that works or a caesar salad with the bacon on the side. It’s frustrating, disabling and infuriating; it somehow strips away our ability to be ourselves. So why not do it for fun?

It would be great if you could convince everyone in your town to speak a different language for a day so you could recreate that feeling, but, let’s face it, the chances are slim. Short of having your eardrums removed, you’re going to be able to understand your neighbours. As a compromise, why not make it so they can’t understand you?

Spend a day speaking in an impenetrable accent. If you’re a perfectionist, research your accent and try to get your Latvian or Ghanian pronunciation to the point where it would fool a Lithuanian or Senegalese. If you’re not a perfectionist, take some tips from Peter Sellers’ Inspector Clouseau (of ‘Pink Panther’ fame) and just pretend you’re French. The main thing is that no one should understand a word you say.

‘Ken ee eff a zeesoor sawad weez zee barcon ern zee zoide?’
‘I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t quite hear you. You wanted a?’
‘Zeesoor sawad weez zee barcon ern zee zoide.’
‘I’m afraid we don’t sell wristwatches here sir. Have you tried Kmart?’

After a day of being hungry, lost and excluded, you’ll once again appreciate how good it is, sometimes, to be home.

The conversation challenge

One of the great things about traveling is the way you find yourself talking to all kinds of people about all kinds of things. Once you hit the road it seems like no subject is too personal, especially if you’re talking to an attractive Scandinavian backpacker and have a mojito or two under your belt.

Don’t you wish you could really get to know people like you do when you’re on vacation? While it might be hard to track down a Scandinavian backpacker in your local bar, perhaps you’ll find that the light of kinship flares just as brightly in the eyes of a tractor mechanic or chartered accountant from your very own home town.

If you manage to get chatting in your local diner, congratulate yourself. But if you really want to take the conversation challenge, try this one. Here’s a list of five questions: if you can get your prattling partner to answer at least three of them (and try to work them into the thread of the conversation—don’t just blurt them out) you may just get that ‘I feel like I really know you even though we just met’ experience.

• What did you dream about last night?
• What was the best toy you ever owned?
• What’s the worst illness you’ve had?
• When did you last play sport?
• What’s something you’re particularly good at?

This man won’t ‘aggle!

What could be more evocative, exotic and downright entrancing than a market in a distant land? And what interaction is more treasured by the traveler than a bit of back-and-forth with a foreign merchant? There’s nothing quite as satisfying as bagging a bargain, particularly if you’ve had to fight damn hard for it. In fact, saving yourself a few pennies while depriving an artisan of a square meal may be the quintessential travel experience.

You bring home souvenirs from far-off lands; you bring home recipes, phrases and diseases. Why not bring home the art of haggling? Just imagine the excitement and variety you’ll bring into the life of your Safeway customer service attendant when you introduce this concept to your everyday shopping.

Of course, there are rules for haggling. Next time you see a fetching little sweater, an in-home theatre system or a McDonald's Happy Meal you just have to have, ask yourself, ‘what is this really worth to me?’, then take the item to the checkout and suggest something about 50% lower than that. Smile, keep your tone light-hearted, and never get angry or offended. If the checkout attendant offers you a cup of tea, take it! Sometimes it’s worth pretending you don’t really want the thing: turning around and walking away can bring an instant drop in price. And always remember, it’s as much about the interaction as it is about the final price.

Meet the locals

If you’re like most people, you go out to the same few places every weekend. You consider yourself a certain type of person, so you go to a certain type of club, bar or pub.

It’s time for a change.

Where’s the drinking hole you’re least likely to visit? (If it’s because it’s incredibly dangerous, cross it off your list and choose the second-least likely.) This Saturday night, you’re going there.

On your visit, keep in mind the most important tenet of travel: respect the local customs and learn from them.

How do the locals dress? Dress similarly, so as not to offend them (if they wear striped shirts and lots of hair product, don’t show up in your torn Dead Kennedys t-shirt; if they like retro handbags and liquid eyeliner, don’t wear your old tracksuit). Observe their customs and ways of behaving and try to fit in (drink complicated cocktails if that’s what they’re drinking; if they prefer Carlton Draught, so do you). Try to talk to the regulars – you never know what you might learn about horse racing, construction work, snagging a rich husband, beach volleyball or what that guy from Pavement is up to these days.

Be open-minded and tolerant. Just because they do things differently, doesn’t mean they’re wrong. And enjoy your cultural experience.