Posts about Lindsay Clark
10 New Things I Did During the World Traveler Internship
I have an awful memory, which is why I spend half my days scribbling notes and lists in order to actually remember things.
And as my mind sifts through the chaos of this summer, sometimes all I can remember is, whoa – that was wild and nothing else! Therefore, I made a list of things I did over the World Traveler Internship that were either new or incredibly exciting for this absent-minded, globe-lovin gal.
1. Drank kava in the Fijian Highlands in a special ceremony sat in by 20+ people just for me, fit with singing and schoolyard games
2. Tandem skydived from 10,000 feet
3. Dove in a cage surrounded by great white sharks
4. Visited a new continent: Australia
5. Dune bashed in the desert
6. Laid eyes on Mt. Kilimanjaro and flew next to her
7. Volunteered at a township in South Africa
8. Belly danced with an actual belly dancer
9. Came within ten feet of a male lion
10. Hiked Table Mountain from bottom to top
My World Adventure
I never really know how my travel experiences have affected me until I return to my starting point: home. Flying through various destinations and worrying about logistics sometimes takes away the mind’s energy to process what it’s witnessed until it’s back on familiar soil. And since each trip is different, every time I return home, it’s a brand new feeling, a new form of culture shock I can never predict.
Coming home from Italy, I felt pissed off at my hometown for not being as historical and visually stimulating as Florence. After Semester at Sea, it pained me to be away from the people I grew very close to on board. And with the conclusion of my Big Journey, I think I felt more stable and purpose-driven, albeit more confused, than any previous homecoming led me to feel. I think it all depends on the nature of the journey and where you are in your personal path with self-awareness. Because that’s one major reason I travel: to become more self-aware.
And now with the winding down of the World Traveler Internship, I have a whole new set of emotions and passions driving me. For once, I’ve welcomed the comforts of home excitedly. Man did I love sitting around! And for the last month, I’ve spent about 90 hours a week working on my Web site, on personal projects and anything fathomable to get me on the path towards being a freelance travel writer. It was the World Traveler Intern program that assured me I love being thrown into a new country with a mission of documentation. I’ve learned how I love to travel, where I want to travel and how to deal with the rigors of this oddball, unconventional, thrilling profession.
Anyone with a smidgeon of wanderlust would adore being a World Traveler Intern, but I can promise you an aspiring travel writer, photojournalist, basically anyone wanting to experience and express as a career will be numbed by how cool it is to have this job. Throughout the trip, I sporadically stopped and smiled, so appreciative of the opportunity and fully aware of how lucky I was. And now I look forward to seeing what lucky souls will receive the honor next year. I’m certain they will have the time of their lives and return to their home bases more alive and wanderlust-ful, because as any traveler knows, that obsession never goes away. Travel begets more travel.
And now I apply the heaviest of connotations, the deepest of meaning to these next two words, directed at the lovely people at STA Travel: Thank you.
You can continue to follow Lindsay’s travels over at her Web site – Nomadderwhere.com.
What to Expect in Dublin
Some Irishmen say Dublin is not a city that reflects the true Irish mentality. “I’ve lived there for years before, but it’s never been a home to me,” said one of the Irish ladies I met on the internship. It definitely has its touristy areas that overcharge and manufacture “authenticity,” and these areas can become smokescreens for the actual intimate experience the traveler seeks. I anticipated not liking Dublin for its prices and supposed lack of charm. However, Dublin did not rub the the wrong way at all.
The capital seems to have a lot going for itself. Theaters dot the city and definitely don’t go unnoticed. The local free newspaper details cultural events ranging from free music and graffiti festivals outside to basement techno parties. And Dublin appears to attract a large amount of travelers who immediately take on the Irish personable nature upon getting to the little green island.
We arrived in Dublin early in the morning and quickly got to work on Intern responsibilities and pressing health issues (Chris had a cough that just wasn’t sounding too pretty). I sat in our hostel’s common room with my laptop open, firing digital data into the universe.
Within the first hour, I met two very interesting people without even trying. Sharing my power cord with a Canadian high school grad led to her recounting why she decided to take a year off to work and live in Ireland. And when the man nearby overheard me explain the details of the World Traveler Internship, we began chatting. I eventually learned he was a fellow American on an round-the-world trip of his own. Both were incredibly willing to show me what they knew about Dublin and the world of travel.
A group of solo travelers and ourselves decided to make a night of it before the tour started in the morning. We ventured to the pub behind the hostel, which squeezed into the empty space between multiple buildings. And it was here that I tried my first pint of Guinness. I took photos. I told the bartender as if it was a momentous occasion. I took a sip and sensed the microscopic bubbles flow down my trap. Unfortunately I was still a bit under the weather and had no functioning taste buds, but I sensed the surprisingly smooth and creamy texture of the classic Irish stout and said, “Hey, not bad at all.”
A night out in Dublin sometimes means a night amongst the streets of the Temple Bar area. This is a place I doubt Dubliners frequent, but it provides a large amount of venues for entertainment and debauchery and, most importantly, Guinness consumption. We found a bar with a band and nestled in a nook with the other French, Canadian, German, and American travelers. This was the first time on the trip traveler intermingling felt so organic.
Sometimes I forgo the opportunity to submerge in the hostel world or traveler niche when traveling because I’d rather be looking for a gallery where I can chat it up with the owner or a pub where the local bartender has time to tell me the good stuff about where I am and who the locals really are. But there’s true merit in speaking to the people you brush your teeth next to. We’re all out there feeling like we’ve got a mission to accomplish and it helps to hear about others’ successes and mishaps. And sharing perceptions of a place can comfort weary bones or stale minds.
I don’t think I met a single Dubliner. Maybe the Irish don’t find Dublin home-like because its already packed with travelers and foreign workers. Whoever actually resides in the city though makes it an easy, fun place.
The Meaning of the Word Craic
“Nice craic”
Why, thank you!
This phrase took me some time to understand. This wasn’t a severely misspelled compliment towards my derriere but a charming little catch phrase about good times in Ireland. Having a blast at a pub, cheers-ing to good friends, good Guinness, and swaying to the pipe of a Irish folk musician? That’s some darn good craic right there.
I assume most travelers come to Ireland to enjoy the scenery and some good ol’ fashioned craic. Our white and green bus shot to the west side of the country, down to the south and around again to Dublin, with every stop centered on the pursuit of lovely views and some lovely good times.
Each time we stopped along the path towards the Atlantic, the more I believed the weather in Ireland is truly confused. Standing in the rain amidst sheep poop on the Hill of Tara, I thought, “This is really lovely. If only my toes weren’t wet and …messy.” Walking around the Trim Castle, I thankfully basked in the sun of a surprisingly clear sky while meandering around the massive stone structure. And as the mist that coated my camera lens outside the Locke Distillery had me finally uttering, “I don’t get this damn barometric situation! Ah, to hell with it. It’s whiskey time.”
Every day we flew across the clouds and squeezed our big bus between pasture-lined country roads. Once in a while, the mist would cease, and an opening in the atmosphere would reveal St. Patrick’s mountain or a field of white horses. It’s hard to let Ireland’s weather ruin a trip to Ireland, but when the weather is good, it’s gorgeous. Nothing on the trip topped the ultimate vista at the most westerly point of our tour. Atop a cliff covered in purple flowers, I sat and stared at breaking waves and tiny uninhabited islands off the coast. A butterfly landed next to me. I laughed, because it was all so ridiculously poetic.
The Cliffs of Moher luckily emerged from an intense cloud cover only a half hour before we got there and we were able to see where land was sliced by an undulating knife before the Earth popped in the oven. It caused a little existential hiccup to hear we were standing in Ireland’s most popular suicide destination, but thankfully we didn’t witness any travesties of the sort, only the simple elegance of nature.
And with every evening, whether we tucked into a one horse or 2,000 horse town, it was a mission for Guinness, for three-time distilled Irish whiskey, for a moment’s rest from a day of bumping on a bus. And when the mind is filled with the vibrant greens of the day, one can easily conclude Ireland is easy on the senses.
Neon chlorophyll and Guinness…and don’t forget the nice craic.
The Love of the Irish
I once loved Lucky Charms cereal. Back in the day, my mom would only purchase whole grain, non-sugary cereals for our morning bowls, so I would pounce at the chance to grab that box packed with clover and rainbow marshmallows at friend’s houses. That leprechaun really hypnotized me with his marketing spiel. They really were magically delicious.
I realized not too long ago that the little leprechaun was the extent of my exposure to Irish culture; that is until I met some real Irishmen (and women) in the traveling community. Thank goodness, because I now find the consistency of the mallows to be rather putrid, and you’d hate to be turned off a country based on a non-authentic food association.
Some white-water kayakers chasing the rapids of the Nile in Uganda.
A round-the-world traveler taking a break from overlanding on the beaches of Zanzibar.
A woman enjoying some time off while jetting across India.
If I were to list all the amazing Irish people I’ve met in various circumstances, my brain would spin and hurl from overuse. The Irish get out there. They are not only lovers of fun, but make for great friends on the road. As a whole, they’re immediately welcoming and seem to understand the comforts and personalities of others quite easily. And when you spend a lot of time away from home, loneliness is often a part of your daily emotional load…that is, unless there are some Irish around.
It wouldn’t matter to me what time of year I visit Ireland or what activities I take part in – I would travel to Ireland just to be around the humor and mindset of the people who live there. Sitting in an empty pub, having a pint at the bar and chatting with the bartender sounds fantastic to me. Falling into a conversation with the man next to me on the bus would probably leave me smiling. And we’re darn lucky to be right across the pond from these guys, making it easier to pop on over for a quick break from work to be around a new culture that’s impossible not to love.
Tour of the Scottish Highlands
We bolted for the Highlands. There was no stopping us. The bright yellow tour bus resembled the Coors Light Silver Bullet Train in my mind as it streamed like a beast across very green and steadily growing hills. When there was a need to stretch the legs, we stopped in a town that brings to mind the adjectives quaint, cute and colorful. When our bellies grumbled, pubs and cafes appeared and never did we leave the big yellow bus door without multiple recommendations for the best food to be had or the best church to be seen.
On the bus, it was always learning time. If I were to pack in the amount of knowledge our guide Kyle had about Scotland into my head, surely geometry equations and verb conjugations would spill out of my ears. Basically, his brain overfloweth with Scottish facts. He told stories, recounted mythical tales and even played DJ by orchestrating an eclectic and authentic Scottish playlist. Bus time was never wasted time.
As the landscape got cooler, we began the side trips. The Battle of Culloden was apparently one that determined the fate of our future countries and cultures. Kyle explained the brutal slaughtering of the Jacobites as we stood on the very soil that soaked up the puddling blood. You can do nothing else in such a spirit-filled presence but wander solemnly and imagine mass fatalities occurring on this, currently, luminous land. Eerie.
After having a little cultural reenactment by a traditional Scottish clansmen (man, those clothes must have smelt rugged), Kyle made it possible to take an optional boat ride on the Loch Ness. We boarded as skeptics, thinking we were only there for the scenery and to joke about water monsters, but I returned to solid ground with squinting eyes and an odd sensation that I believed what the sailor aboard was telling us. There really may be a monster, or perhaps 18, in the Loch Ness. There’s some pretty eerie “proof” circulating on the down low.
Day two pleased me to no end. The castle from the movie Entrapment?! Get outta town! We walked around what was once majestic, then terrorized and knocked to the ground, and is now rebuilt to its original splendor. Eilean Donan Castle is one famous little stack of rocks at the merging of three lakes, and I oogled the rooftop, trying to envision Sean Connery dropping his whiskey glass into the swampy abyss.
And with a subsequent visit to the Isle of Skye, I was then rocked by colors: slate blue ocean, yellow-green hills, pale blue skies, gray and mossy stones of yore. This day reminded me I see the Highlands permanently stuck in some medieval period, where stones are primary building materials, blood is shed in the most brutal way, and the oldest of English vocabulary is necessary for conversation (though Highlanders usually only spoke Gaelic). It’s funny to think where we get these ideas, to suspend a culture in a time we never really knew or witnessed firsthand. I guess Scotland lends to it with the preservation of its medieval castles (as does Florence with the Renaissance architecture or my grandma with her ’70s style furniture). We all reminisce about the good ‘ol days, I guess.
I was never untouched by the view out the window. The soil of the hills held stories I’d cringe hearing and the clouds were ever-present to keep the landscape new and changing. Glen Coe was no exception to the beautiful Highland rule: this spot on the Earth is towering and begging to be hiked. And when a leisurely drive around the open land brings you past cows with teenage boy hair, you can’t help but think the Highlands are hilarious. One may even call them Wild and Sexy.
Why You Have to Visit Edinburgh
Stepping outside after dropping my dirty and travel-worn bags, I noticed the cobblestones, the old building fronts, the charm that draws you in immediately without the need for double-decker bus tours or guided walks following a man holding a yellow umbrella. Edinburgh is a city that makes you yearn not to be a tourist. All I wanted to do was find some grad student pub or old bookstore, sit in a wee corner of a medieval building or on a less-crowded city sidewalk and soak the old and the new in through my skin and eyes.
Edinburgh isn’t stuck in the past. It seems the residents are in sync with 21st century life while loving the saturation of rich culture and history that surrounds them in this city. She reminded me of Florence, not in style or appearance but through the tangible beauty of sitting amidst the memories of diverse and exciting centuries.
I had the added pleasure of having a friend in town, a pal named Mary from my high school and college days who had lived in Edinburgh for about two years altogether. She had a passion for the Scottish and especially the fantastic culture to be found down each cobbled street. And Mary took me straight to the ambiance I was thirsting for: a bar by the local university, filled with young minds and cheap, local draft.
Within about 60 minutes of landing in Scotland, I fell for the country. It could be the quarter of my ancestry screaming out for its Scottish roots, but I don’t think you have to be a Scotsman by blood to realize the joys of the plaid land. When every building speaks of a bygone era and every local seems to reek of humor, you feel satisfied with your destination…
I highly doubt Edinburgh in the off-season lacks the vigor of its summer days, but we came at the absolute best time of year. August brings the Fringe, the world’s largest arts festival, which means the city doubles in size, every nook is filled with artisan wares, and the energy of Edinburgh reaches all-time highs causing anyone to feel inspired and want to grab a mic or a paint brush. I felt the own artist in me jumping around inside, hoping to express something amidst a sea of purging souls. Part of me now feels there’s no other place on Earth to be in August than here.
I think my friend, as well as the fabulous Rachel Rudwall, had it figured out: Edinburgh is a great place to study abroad. And if I’m lucky, I’ll return to truly experience the grandeur of the Fringe Festival in August, as well as spend some quality one-on-one time with a city that now makes my top ten list: Edinburgh.
Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster
Would you take me seriously if I told you I believe in Nessie, the Loch Ness monster? Crazy thing is I actually think I do. At least the old sailor on our boat trip made it very easy to imagine such a creature existed below us in those deep and murky waters of Scotland.
A few of us from our Scottish Highlands Bus Tour decided to spend an hour of our first evening aboard a boat in one of Scotland’s most beautiful settings. This lake, or loch in Scottish Gaelic, is a natural body of water created on a fault line, its depth reaching 260 meters at points. The temperature of the water is frigid and it’s hardly transparent enough to see your hand dipped in two feet deep. We were told, “If all the water in all the lakes and rivers of Scotland was poured into an empty Loch Ness, it wouldn’t be enough to fill it.” Water pressure is intense when people or unmanned remote vehicles submerge. The conditions of the water have made it extremely difficult to really investigate the possibilities of massive creatures in the water, but there are some, like our boat guide, who make it their life missions to prove this creature exists.
I met a few fun individuals from the tour who shared my dreams of having Nessie recreate the quintessential Free Willy moment over our heads. We even took a picture to later be edited in Photoshop with that effect. But soon, the boat guide brought us down below to hear his tales and be convinced, not just amused.
Multiple TV monitors displayed the activity going on below the boat. One could map out the depth and appearance of the lake bed and another illustrated the wildlife with massive blots of color. Twenty-five years of this man’s life have been dedicated to finding Nessie and her pals, as they believe there are possibly 18 “monsters” in the loch. And when he began showing photos of the TV monitors picking up 3-ton creatures, our eyes opened a little wider. When a remote-operated vehicle submerged to the lake bed, they found a skeleton of mass proportions in the shape of our Nessie assumptions. Whoa.
The biggest shock came when he showed us a photo he captured while kayaking years prior. NASA confirmed this photo hadn’t been altered digitally – so he claimed. And if that’s true, holy cow, there is something with a huge, scaly neck in Loch Ness.
I love running into these passionate people around the World who find one thing they would die for and spend their lives pursuing one goal. Though we Americans like to be skeptical of stories like Nessie’s, it’s fun getting pulled into these old mysteries by the people who bleed them.
Nessie’s out there, man. Go check it out for yourself.
Things To Know Before Visiting Greece
Things To Know Before Visiting Greece:
- You can’t flush paper down toilets on the islands
- The water on the islands isn’t recommended for drinking, so get that money ready for all those bottles
- ATVs and scooter rentals are everywhere and seem like they’re totally worth it
- The Greek and Italian languages are nothing alike
- The beaches are sometimes difficult to get to on the islands and most are clothing-optional
- There’s no avoiding cigarette smoke in Greece. It’s everywhere.
- In Greece, the party starts well after midnight and can continue into brunch time
- The water really is that blue
- They don’t have the greatest beer…and the wine is clearly superior in Italy
- Gyros are a lovely and cheap option for eating out, especially before or after a late night
- Italians LOVE Mykonos
- Going topless on a beach is quite common
- Feta in Greece is served as a thick slab of cheese, not in crumbles, and it’s delicious there
What to Expect from Santorini
Holy mackerel, Mykonos ripped my body apart and threw it to the seagulls. With every passing minute on the ferry, my head swirled against the motions of the waves and filled with pain. It’s so sad, when your body becomes a victim to disease on the road, but I tried to wipe away my horrifying expression and enjoy as much as possible this most anticipated destination: Santorini.
Here’s what one can expect from Santorini…
- All civilization lies at a high elevation on the island. It takes a while to get places.
- Buildings really do cling to the cliffs and present those beautiful cityscapes.
- The beaches are both calm and crazy and all are clothing optional.
- Scooter and ATV rentals abound, making it very easy to get around and love where you are
Climbing caused my head to throb – I could barely open my eyes to the gorgeous sunset falling over the rooftops. And without the ability to open my eyes, I couldn’t rent a scooter and therefore discovered no beaches. Sadly, I did not see Santorini the way it was meant to be seen.
My weary body did, however, muster up enough energy (after 18 hours of rest) to go on the optional tour with the group: to walk over the Santorini volcano, swim in hot springs and ride a donkey from the water to town. Views were blue, rocky, and gorgeous at every glance, and luckily, the heavy smell of sulfur in the hot springs had no affect on me. I could barely breathe, let alone smell! We covered our faces in hot mud from the floor of the hot springs and my struggling complexion caught a break with its healing effects.
We boarded stubborn donkeys at the base of the cliff, only to laugh and scream all the way up. They would run, stop, bite each other, squeeze our legs against walls and other donkeys and I couldn’t help but make as many “ass” puns and donkey references as humanly possible.
Santorini has the parties and the peace. I wish I could have experienced and loved both, but instead I dealt with the realities of travel: the occasional disease caused by exhaustion.
