I was thinking back on my favorite travel stories, trying to find a common thread. What was it that allowed me to shop at a flea market, complete with vintage clothing sellers and vendors of chicken feet and assorted edible bugs, at 1:30 in the morning in Taiwan? Or to have the best steak au poivre of my life served to me by my new very good friend, the head chef of a restaurant in St. Maarten? Or to wander off from the rest of my group and have a life changing experience in Smoot, Wyoming?
In every case, I was able to have these incredible experiences by breaking out of the routine and doing something different. Now maybe that sounds obvious, but as long as I’ve listened to the advice of others, gone with group decisions, stayed to the printed itinerary, I’ve had, well, routine experiences. It’s only from busting out and doing something deliberately different that I got to have some of the best travel experiences of my life.
Walk, walk, walk
I was in Brussels on business, and my girlfriend was along for the trip. We were staying at the Metropole, a 19th century landmark hotel in such beautiful condition, and with such amazing service, we felt as if we had gone back to 1895 every time we entered the lobby or rode the brass and mahogany elevator.
On the weekend, we picked up a map of the city and walked. We left the hotel with no plan, and no destination, and without asking the concierge for ideas or checking the guidebooks. So we walked and walked, and walked, letting the city unfold for us as it chose to. We came across one town square where elaborate preparations were underway for the filming of a movie or television show. In another square we bought what I think were called funnel cakes, and feasted on cones of Belgium’s unique, crisp interpretation of the fry.
We finished with a visit to the Brussels flea market (excellent) and late lunch at a rooftop café with fresh baguettes and insanely great home made lemonade.
Trash the plan
On a business trip to Boston, I threw out my “required” plans and salvaged an otherwise exhausting and dreary visit to the city. I have been an exhibitor, no exaggeration, at over 25 Macworld shows in the U.S. and overseas. I had my own company, a manufacturer of Mac peripherals and software. The Boston show is every August, an awful time to for a Californian, or anyone else, to be in Boston. One year I decided to take my seven-year-old son with me.
The first two days, I woke him at eight, made him get his suit and tie on (because I thought it looked cute), and dragged him to the exhibit hall in time to open our booth. On the third day, he wouldn’t get out of bed. I told him he had to, and he said, “Why? You’re the boss!” I realized that going to the show would suck, and I wanted more sleep and I didn’t want to get dressed up either. So I said screw it, and told him, “You’re right. Go back to sleep. When we feel like getting up we’ll eat and go do whatever you want.” We went to the Boston Tea Party ship, the Children’s Museum, did some shopping and some eating and just hung out together. It was one of my best dad days ever, realized because I was willing to trash my existing plan and just have fun.
Hang with the locals
When I was 13, my parents sent me to a summer “camp” made up of VW buses that traveled the Western U.S. The 4th of July held much promise that year. We were in Wyoming, where fireworks were cheap and legal, and for some reason, the counselors let us buy as many as we wanted. (This is less surprising when you know that one of the counselors also let me steer the van for about 20 minutes on a deserted Nevada highway.)
We stopped in at a ranch in Smoot, Wyoming to have some dinner, light off some fireworks and spend the night. The rancher’s daughter was gorgeous, 16 (an older woman!), and for some reason, interested in me. During the fireworks display, she whispered in my ear, “Wanna go pick some berries?” Even at 13, I was smart enough not to answer, “I don’t like berries,” so she took me by the hand and led me up the hill where the berries grew.
Once we got the berry patch, we went through the motions of picking a few handfuls, and then, continuing her direct style of conversation, she said, “I like making out with boys. Do you like to make out?” Again, I didn’t reveal that I had thus far in my life had no opportunity to evaluate the whole making out thing. Instead, we made out, and it was not too bad.
Afterwards, we walked down the hill and she invited me into the ranch house to meet her dad and hang out. While my fellow campers were setting up tents and drinking from canteens, I was sitting next to her, playing the piano and drinking hot chocolate. Screw those losers, was all I could think. The next day, I dropped by the ranch house to see my new girlfriend, only to find her at the piano with a tall cowboy. She acted as if she didn’t recognize me, and a few minutes later, the two of them walked out, got into a pickup truck and drove away. Turns out he was something of a local rodeo star, and she was nothing more than a serial makeout artist.
Your travels will most likely not bring you to Smoot. The point is, by getting to know a “local” instead of hanging out with the rest of the campers, I saw Wyoming from a unique and memorable perspective. And I guess I’ll have to save the Taiwan and St. Maarten stories for another time.
As told by Joel Postman. Joel is the principal of Socialized, a consultancy that helps companies make effective use of social media in public relations, marketing and corporate communications. His background includes over a decade of Fortune 500 communications leadership, with three years at Hewlett-Packard, and four years as the speechwriter to the CEO of Sun Microsystems. Joel’s new book, SocialCorp: Social Media Goes Corporate, will be published by New Riders later this year.
