7/30/15
I trust that my loyal blog followers will see this post as the heartfelt expression of emotional truth for me that it is rather than a complaint session, even if it does serve as cathartic for me getting it off my chest. It’s certainly not meant as a polemic; I simply look at it as coming clean about what was really going on for me during the trip, despite blog entries waxing enthusiastically about far off, exotic countries, enjoyable foods, interesting histories and cultures, etc. In truth, although The Human Journey was certainly worth pursuing in theory and definitely glamorous in execution, here a month after returning home I can reveal that in reality it was also relatively unfulfilling for me. This is not meant to serve as assessment of monetary value at all either. The trip was expensive, but I do feel we got what we paid for in that respect. It’s just that I hadn’t really thought through what it would look like on a practical basis, and therefore, while I couldn’t have expected anything in particular, what I got was not the kind of trip I would probably take if I had given it full analysis and consideration. So in this case, a rather impulsive, and yet clearly understandable decision to jump on board this thing (which did have to be done quickly since they sell out fast) landed me on a trip that doesn’t really fit with my lifestyle, how I like to travel, or what would really be a priority for me when I take all things into consideration. I’m certainly okay with that, and have learned so much in the process, and of course on the trip itself. But I do want to share some experiences with a few facets of what made the trip such a challenge for me, and sent me around in a haze, unable to fully appreciate and absorb what was there to witness, appreciate, and understand. But let me start with just a few positives to set a better tone... ;-)
I trust that my loyal blog followers will see this post as the heartfelt expression of emotional truth for me that it is rather than a complaint session, even if it does serve as cathartic for me getting it off my chest. It’s certainly not meant as a polemic; I simply look at it as coming clean about what was really going on for me during the trip, despite blog entries waxing enthusiastically about far off, exotic countries, enjoyable foods, interesting histories and cultures, etc. In truth, although The Human Journey was certainly worth pursuing in theory and definitely glamorous in execution, here a month after returning home I can reveal that in reality it was also relatively unfulfilling for me. This is not meant to serve as assessment of monetary value at all either. The trip was expensive, but I do feel we got what we paid for in that respect. It’s just that I hadn’t really thought through what it would look like on a practical basis, and therefore, while I couldn’t have expected anything in particular, what I got was not the kind of trip I would probably take if I had given it full analysis and consideration. So in this case, a rather impulsive, and yet clearly understandable decision to jump on board this thing (which did have to be done quickly since they sell out fast) landed me on a trip that doesn’t really fit with my lifestyle, how I like to travel, or what would really be a priority for me when I take all things into consideration. I’m certainly okay with that, and have learned so much in the process, and of course on the trip itself. But I do want to share some experiences with a few facets of what made the trip such a challenge for me, and sent me around in a haze, unable to fully appreciate and absorb what was there to witness, appreciate, and understand. But let me start with just a few positives to set a better tone... ;-)
I have now been to some places I cannot see any other reason nor reasonable opportunity to visit again. So the places I have seen, the history about which I have learned, and the experiences had in those places will stay with me for the rest of my life, and should satiate any lingering desire to see such remote locations with minimal draw for me. I also took the opportunity to try private jet travel, something I’m not sure whether I’ll do again; yet I can assure you it does have its merits. I met a few people whom I hope will stay in my life moving forward, and have definitely been keeping in touch with at least one in particular. He lives near my cousin in Florida, whom I do visit on occasion, and gives me one more incentive to get to that part of the country. I was exposed to a standard of service and organization that will be a new benchmark for how well a bunch of complex logistics can be pulled off virtually without a hitch. Those TCS employees are top notch and well trained. Many aspects of the trip were excellent, such as the food, the V.I.P. airport experiences, having our own flight crew and seat as a home base, having our own doctor to consult at anytime, and we were definitely lucky to have a group of civilized, kind and interesting travelers who remained quite positive in attitude from what I observed. So the trip was certainly not all bad, but for me the weight of the burdens, discomforts, and sense of being herded made it seem surreal, and I wanted to rush through it, even if that meant the sacrifice of glossing over some things and even intentionally missing others. Hunkering down to a simple coping mode was where I was at mostly the entire time, and you’ll get a clearer picture of why in the next paragraphs.
Firstly, I will admit that some of the things that impeded my ability to get the most out of the trip (and continually feel at ease) were merely circumstantial. The changes in weather, climate and time zone from country to country made it difficult to pack and of course acclimatize. Getting so sick early in the trip really threw me, especially since we missed the Gobi Desert, which was expected to be a trip highlight. Coming out of illness and into more long plane flights in stormy weather and long bus rides on bumpy, unmaintained roads only served to exacerbate the physical feelings but also made me emotionally compromised as I braced for bumpy flights and bus rides. I had hoped that the one solace would be that at least people wouldn’t notice that we had been missing-in-action, because the group split into two in Mongolia. I figured that the people who went to the Gobi would figure we were in the national park, and those who went there would assume we had been in the Gobi with the rest of the group. Unfortunately, our trip’s doctor made an announcement to many people that I was sick and had remained behind in Ulaanbaatar. A few people, it turned out, did exactly as I had hoped, and after all the “sorrys” and “how are you feelings” it was a welcome discovery. But getting sick early and dealing with the aftermath and re-acclimation to what we were doing definitely took a toll and suppressed my mood and ability to openly observe and enjoy all we were seeing and doing.
Although this was not my first foray into organized group travel, it was certainly the most regimented and action-packed. Not that there is a problem with getting the most out of the time available and staying active, but I’ve referred to this trip as “a marathon distance at a sprinter’s pace”. Despite time changes and varying degrees of sleep quality each night, we had to order wake-up calls for 5:30-6:30 every morning. A taxing proposition to be sure. Every night at 9pm or 10pm we had to have our main suitcase outside our room for bellman pick-up. Then our “wheelie bag” had to be out at 7am for pick-up. Some places, we would be losing the big bag for a few days (due to non-jet travel and cargo logistics), so we always had to consider upcoming weather, activities, and evening dress codes for what to be sure we had with us and accessible in our wheelie bag, which would on those days and places, be the only bag we had with us. Also, we had to be prepared for anything we would need after the 7am wheelie bag pick-up to be on our person, which negated the opportunity to even use that cargo resource. Then the pacing itself was quiet high pressure and unrelenting. Sure, we were at liberty to skip any activity we wanted, but then of course you miss things; so it’s definitely a dilemma when you have to decide to take care of yourself and feel good or get your money’s worth, seize the opportunity of being there, and see everything. We rushed through many of the countries, and in some, saw very little. We definitely skipped over large cities, which I personally tend to enjoy. Yangon, for example, was a big tease. We landed there, saw the Shwedagon Pagoda, checked into our hotel, had enough time for dinner in the hotel, and had to hit the sack for our 6am wake-up call. We got up, had breakfast and hit the bus by 8am. There was not one minute’s opportunity to so much as step outside in this colorful, lively city that looked so enticing. The reason I was excited that Sri Lanka was included in this itinerary was that we learned of the capital city of Columbo in fourth grade. But we had even less opportunity to see that city than we did in Yangon, as we skipped it entirely. Flying in there was just a gateway to the jungle where we did go. So there were some places we would love to have seen, since we were all the way over there, but this trip did not afford us the opportunity to see them. Also, the places that they did choose for us to visit were predominantly religious in origin. Granted, the trip is called “Sacred Places”... but those aren’t necessarily the places that are most interesting to me personally, and likely not the ones I would choose when designing my own travel itinerary (whatever the destination). Besides rushing through countries and seeing relatively little of personal interest within them, there were very minimal breaks between activities before having to show up for the next outing. Again, this made the trip action-packed, but physically taxing as a result. It left us very little time in very few places for personal exploring on our own, not to mention gathering ourselves, personal care, etc. Consequently, we did not have chances to meet, mingle, and interact with locals personally; something that has always been a highlight of traveling for me. So the bottom line issue here is about having no control over the itinerary in this type of travel program. It’s of course a personal thing, but I have always planned my own travel, itinerary and agendas. I also like the flexibility to alter course, meet people along the way, and accept invitations to get closer to the local culture and population, even if it means re-working the overall itinerary to accommodate that opportunity. And being in a group, one is completely isolated from the world around them. It’s like we are “in the herd”, and it is impenetrable to outsiders, despite our desire for some interplay. So here we were stuck within the confines of our own group, and we had to contend with the group dynamic itself. Luckily, although there were a scant couple of duds who tended to be rude, the vast majority of the travelers seemed like very nice people who were consistently well behaved with good attitudes, and happy to share their own interesting histories and lives. But there is always a major catch for me personally when it comes to easily acclimating to the tribe. As personable and approachable as I am, and as easy as it generally is for me to converse and get along with most all people from any walk of life, I am a person who comes with an explanation. Not only am I gay, which is not always readily apparent in meeting me, but I partner with guys decades older than myself, which is unusual and therefore a mystery to many who meet me. In the case of a group trip, people want to be social, figure others out, and figure out the best way to socialize with them. When people see Jack and me together, they assume we are father and son, grandfather and grandson, friends, travel buddies, or some other such relationship. They never seem to suspect that we are actually partners in a live-in relationship. So I will bring up something that many non-gay people probably never realize. Coming out of the closet and admitting one is gay is not something that is done once in a lifetime, and then the cat is out of the bag and you just go on through life. It is something we must do again and again throughout our lives every time we meet someone new. But it isn’t exactly the first thing one says, “Hi, I’m Evan, and I’m gay.” So determining how to handle each individual situation is sometimes a challenge for me. And in my case, people tend to make an assumption about the nature of our relationship, and then confront us with it to verify if they were correct. It usually sounds like, “Oh, is this your father?” And it stumps me every time!! On this trip, it got particularly bad on the day we transferred from Ethiopia to Israel, our second to last transfer. By this point, you might assume that we’d have been figured out by most people. But three women in a row confronting me devastated me and left me quite depressed for that day. The first was a lady I had really liked throughout the trip. And she was being sweet and genuinely concerned when she asked, “How is your grandpa holding up?” But then a few minutes later, the lady of the only other couple from the Bay Area (Livermore to be exact) asked me simply, “Are you two related?”. Minutes later, on a shuttle across the tarmac to our jet, another lady I was quite fond of asked me, “So do you have a significant somebody in your life?” My main hesitation in simply coming clean by immediately correcting these assumptive questions is the shock they will get the moment they realize that they are completely wrong in their thinking and that they embarrassed us both in the process. So I tend towards letting them think they are right, and moving on. But when faced with the same 70 people, in tight quarters for nearly a month, it gets much more sticky. And I could only imagine the things that are said behind our backs, given the very unique nature of our relationship, and the common inquiries and misunderstandings about it. That alone would make me think very carefully whether I’d join a group trip again or not.
Another big disappointment was the itinerary itself. Obviously I was privy to the general flow of the trip and basic destinations beforehand, and booked anyway. I guess it’s a form of “eyes being bigger than the stomach” or “biting off more than I could chew”, but a little different. It’s like seeing a gorgeous bowl of guacamole, and going in for a big bite on a tortilla chip, only to discover that it was wasabi. Not a great feeling when you thought it would be so good. This trip sounded exotic, rare, and fascinating. But really there seem to be good reasons that these are not popular tourist destinations. That is a great lesson to learn, but an expensive and uncomfortable one with which to cope. I was not wowed by Georgia nor Uzbekistan. Mongolia was a total loss due to illness, but the one walk we took around the main square in their capital city of Ulaanbataar showed us not much beyond traffic hell, incessant honking, complete disregard for pedestrians and traffic laws, people wearing dust masks due to pollution, and not a lot of color, culture, good food, or any of the things I look for in a travel destination. Myanmar was okay, but not a place I’d rush back to visit again for any conceivable reason. It seemed like a poor man’s version of the ever popular Thailand next door. And although it’s perhaps more untouched by modern commercialism, it does lack in resources and comforts. Sri Lanka was better, but again, we saw such a limited area in the middle of the country. The food was pretty good and the people pretty nice, but so much evidence of poverty is on constant display that it just makes one sad to see it. Ethiopia was virtually a complete waste, except for our visit with my former coworker Yonas. He did show us a nice time, and do his best to introduce us a little deeper into the capital city of Addis Ababa. But, again, abject poverty astounded us as fascinating, but failed to garner any affection from us. And the main attraction in Ethiopia was a side trip, which 90% of the group took, to Lalibela, which is yet another religious site we were not that interested in seeing anyway. Again, good thing we had Yonas there. Of all the countries we visited, Israel was probably the best, and likely the only one I would have pursued visiting on my own at some point in my life. But again, although we flew into the fun, lively, gay-friendly city of Tel Aviv, we left it immediately by coach from the airport to transfer to Jerusalem (a worthy destination indeed). So it was a tease not to see Tel Aviv, especially when I was invited by one of our expert speakers to stay a few days and have some fun with locals there. Impossible, as we were moving on the next day back to London...
The other major disappointment about this trip which became clear pretty early on was that although Spencer Wells was signed on as the trip’s “Explorer-in-Residence”, it had virtually nothing to do with his work at National Geographic and on the Genographic Project, with which I am so fascinated. So yes, it was him, and technically we could have asked him anything we wanted, but there were no tangible connections to the human migration that he spent so many years researching and mapping for the Genographic Project. After the trip, I went back to the original brochure to see what I might have missed about the lack of connection to his work. The introduction on page one of the brochure is a letter from Spencer Wells, and reads: “Since 2005, National Geographic’s Genographic Project has sought to tell the story of how humans came to populate our planet. Using cutting-edge genetic technology, we’ve worked with indigenous communities around the world to map out our ancestry and trace human migrations over the past 60,000 years. Our findings speak to fundamental questions about how great civilizations developed, how nomadic people have survived, and how religious movements have made their way across the globe. I am thrilled to invite you to join me on a remarkable journey by private jet that delves into those very questions, exploring places that helped define the trajectory of human history.” Somehow I didn’t interpret that to mean that this trip had nothing to do with our migration’s paths or routes, and all of the things he discovered through his work on the Genographic Project. And it gets even farther from accurate on page two. It reads: “The Human Journey. Unravel the story of our ancestors as we journey to places that have shaped the path of human history. Spencer Wells uses cutting-edge genetic tools and draws from the latest research in the fields of anthropology, linguistics, and paleoclimatology to tell the incredible story of how every person alive today is descended from ancestors who lived in Africa some 60,000 years ago. When humans first ventured out of Africa, they left genetic footprints that are still traceable today. By mapping the appearance and frequency of these genetic markers in modern populations, we can create a picture of when and how our ancient ancestors moved around the world. These great migrations eventually led the descendants of a small group of Africans to occupy the farthest reaches of the Earth. In the process creating the remarkable tapestry of human diversity we see today. Explore our ancient predecessors’ journeys to better understand who we are, where we came from, and how we’re all members of one extended human family.” This all sounds fascinating, and is the reason I was so enthusiastic about this trip! But we did none of these things. The trip wasn’t related to the actual human migration out of Africa at all. And we never learned about actual migration in any of these places. Sure, we saw the (model of) ancient remains from Lucy, a 3.2 million year old hominid ancestor, but that’s way before the 60,000 years ago migration occurred.
On the bright side, though (isn’t there always a bright side?), in the midst of all the hunkering down, coping, and surviving on this trip, I was also recognizing some valuable things to reaffirm about life at home. When seeing how dismal the living conditions are for so many others around the globe, it can bring up feelings of being very lucky, and not taking what comforts and luxuries we have back home for granted. As we experienced these inconveniences, discomforts, and cautions, I compared them with life at home. Throughout the trip I developed this list I call “SF Best”, about why we have it so good at home. So I wanted to share that entire list with my blog followers, and hope it will remind all of us how good we have it, and to use that appreciation to fuel our own contentment with our lives. At least our power does not go off everyday, like in Ethiopia, where the haves and have-nots are determined by who has a generator in place to cope!
SF Best:
- It’s home. ;-)
- No extreme weather - hot or cold, rain or severe storms.
- No biting or annoying bugs.
- No hoards of people - less than 800,000.
- Friendly, laid-back, welcoming and open attitude.
- Diversity and tolerance for all races and LGBT.
- High level of intellect.
- Lots of non religious people.
- Well developed, smooth roads, signage, and infrastructure.
- East and obedient traffic and pedestrians.
- Reliable plumbing, strong pressure, hot water, reasonably priced Hetch Hetchy water for cooking, drinking and bathing.
- Reliable utilities including fast internet.
- No censorship of media or internet.
- Reliable and reasonably priced curbside garbage service with responsible recycling, reusing, and composting.
- Great farmer’s markets, Haight Street Market (health conscious, local, organic food, home, and beauty products, and very high quality produce), and Six Whole Foods Markets (all with free parking).
- Best restaurants and mega wide variety of ethnicities and styles; each of high quality.
- Caviar (and many other) restaurant food delivery services.
- Many great coffee houses who roast their own beans on site daily.
- Great universities, public education (high school for the arts), etc.
- Good medical insurance (free for those who can’t pay), and world class doctors (UCSF etc.).
- Medical cannabis and other experimental pharmaceuticals available for patients who make the choice to use them.
- Good live music (local and touring acts) and other culture (world class opera, symphony, ballet, theater, cinema, museums, etc.).
- Pinball arcades are back.
- Great clothes shopping, styles, etc., both independent and national/international brands.
- Lots of parks and local, dramatic natural beauty: coastal, bay, mountain, forest, etc.
- Close and intimate - no long distances - 7 miles by 7 miles.
- Easily drive to: Santa Cruz/Carmel (1.5 hours), Lake Tahoe (3 hours), Mendocino coast (3 hours), Yosemite (3 hours), wine country (1 hour).
- Fly to: LA, Seattle or Vegas (1 hour), Hawaii or New York (5 hours), Japan/Asia or Europe (10 hours).
So there you have it, my friends. That’s a wrap! We did it. We survived The Human Journey, and are here to tell the tales from the trip. I hope you have enjoyed the stories, photos, laughs and tears. I am not sure how I’m going to proceed with this blog. The site itself has not been that great. People have had trouble subscribing. People are confused by the order of the posts, and can’t figure out how to read them in chronological order (because they seem "upside down" to some). People have trouble leaving comments. Things are not organized well, and I need to determine if it’s the way I set up my blog, or if it’s a matter of the host not providing good clarity. I’d like to do some more blogging about various things, but need to determine the best site to use for that. So stay tuned, and if need be, I’ll start fresh and email an announcement regarding the new location.
I do thank you for reading my reports and sharing in the experience with me vicariously this way. Perhaps this trip was even better from the arm chair... Anyone care to comment? ;-) E.R.
