Reading an article recently got me
reminiscing about the first real trip I did.
Not the week I had in Tunisia riding camels. Not the week in Ibiza, avoiding San Antonio. An actual backpacking trip. Years before flash packing was a glint in an
entrepreneurs eye. There was no
"flash" in the travel we were to embark on. Not even on the camera we had. No, seriously, it had NO flash. There are probably people reading this who
don't understand that statement. Does
this help?
 |
| Example of 110 camera, introduced by Kodak in 1972 |
My, oh my. Taking pics on that old thing. And wandering to the chemist on Pitt St Mall
in Sydney, paying extra to get the 1 hour processing. The height of excitement. Then, when the pics came, nervously flicking
through to see what of the night out in Kings Cross actually got captured. I lost count of the times we either
exclaimed, who IS that? Why is that girl
sitting on your knee? Who are those lads
drinking schooners with us? Those
halcyon days.
The intention is not to rehash the
original article I read, but to give me chance to reflect on times past, and
the changes that seem to have happened over the years without me really noticing. I still feel like that excited 23 year
old. Knowing there is a whole world out
there to explore. I am a little older,
and wiser now, but I still have that excitement about the world.
Traveling in 1994 was very
different to traveling now. No email. Internet?
What was that? All we had was our
trusty guide book of choice. Mine being
then, and still, Lonely Planet. But what
hefty tomes they were.
Booking your next hostel over the
actual telephone. The big ones in the
street, that you put coins into. Not the
one in your pocket the size of a small caramel slice. No kids, those weren't invented at this
point. Mobile phones, not caramel
slices.
Passing on your contact details by
getting out a pen, and ripping a piece of paper from your travel journal. Knowing that you were never going to see, nor
contact 99% of the people. But it felt
good to do it anyway. With your new lifelong
"friends". That is something
that never changes, whatever the technology we use as enablers. Friendships don't need social media.
And as for writing to let people
know what you were up to. Well. You had to actually write. With a real pen.
Poste Restante. What a quaint idea. If you wanted a letter to reach you on the
road, you told people which city, or town you would be in, and added c/o Poste
Restante. And miraculously, it
arrived. You went and queued up with all
the other travellers, and vagabonds, with your identification. And collected your mail. I still have a box full of letters from that
time, collected from post offices around Australia.
A few years after that seminal
trip, I found myself back down under, travelling around New Zealand, tying in a
quick visit to the sister, who at this time was living it large in Bondi. Sans children.
What was this strange phenomenon
whereby fellow travellers were jumping straight off the bus upon arrival in
Christchurch, and running into the nearest café? All lined up, clearly visible through the
front window of the cafe, each sat at a computer terminal. Were they taking some kind of online
exam? Playing computer games? No, the age of the Internet cafe had arrived. With pay as you go access to email, and
allowing you to upload (if you had the time and money for the incredibly
frustrating upload and download speeds) photos.
At lot had seemingly changed since 1994.
A brave new world indeed.
I had to join this brave new world,
and so, far my next major trip, a round the world (RTW in travel parlance) I
found myself travelling all the way to Leeds to hunt down an elusive Internet
cafe. I say ALL the way to Leeds, and
those readers from home will know this is not far at all. But in those days, it just highlights how few
and far between these mythical Internet cafes were.
Not that I knew what one of these
places of magic and mystery were, but I had read that I could go there and get
an email address. Whatever that
was. A legacy of this remains to this
day, the reason I have "99" appending fcormack on my hotmail account.
This was the year I set it up. A
poignant, and constant reminder of a marvellous year.
Having an email address was only
half the story. Finding a place down a
dusty side street in Delhi that somebody had told you had a computer so you
could email...who exactly? I think I was
an early adopter in this email malarkey, which meant the options of who I could
write to (electronically) were very limited.
And boy, were these internet
connections slow! You paid by the 5, or
10 mins usually. And before you had
written "wish you were here" you had spent next week's beer and bed
budget. Imagine my relief some years
later when Stelios finally got into the game, creating his big orange
"EasyInternet" cafes. Game
changers at the time, that I have used in places from Berlin to Barcelona.
Traveling now is unrecognisable
from my early days. My last real trip
was at the end of 2010/start of 2011, all around South America. Most people I met were carrying expensive bits
of kit such as MacBooks, and large expensive SLR cameras. Not to mention the mini computers,
masquerading as phones, in their pockets.
Or it's the ubiquitous tablet, used to capture and share every waking
moment of their trip. Be it the food. The amazing sunset. The "undiscovered" beach they have
just discovered. The one first mentioned
by Tony and Maureen Wheeler in the very Lonely Planet guide to South East Asia,
Across Asia on the Cheap, from 1973.
I have a wry smile to myself,
seeing some of the content in today's travel blogs. From the "digital nomads" currently
traveling all four corners of the earth.
They sometimes really believe they are exploring uncharted waters. Seeing things with human eyes for the very
first time. The reality is that they
probably aren't even the first person in their hostel to see it. But you know what, that is part of the
beauty of travelling. Thinking you are
Phileas Fogg. Educating the masses to
the big wide world out there.
What is true is that the act of
travel is no longer a luxury. Or even a
rite of passage as it once was. It's
just something you do. Because you
can. Because life is short, and it sure
beats working. And because the world has
shrunk to the point that any of us can be anywhere we want to be.
You just need to decide where that
is, and make it happen.
