August 2017

The group was making its way to Romania from Chișinău, Moldova via overnight train. We’ve been sweating in 38ºC heat with no air conditioning in our hotels and busses.

I was hoping to feel the sweet kiss of conditioned air for the first time in a week on this ride. Boy was I wrong.

We step on the train and are immediately disappointed at the lack of both light and cool air. I make my way to the sleepers and toss my bags down on the floor under the bed. Fuck! It’s only been thirty seconds and I’m already sweating buckets.

Surely it will cool down once the train starts moving?

Everyone is in a mad haste to open all the windows. The look on our faces is one of pure defeat as only every other window is openable. 

The 592km ride will take us approx. 14 hours and includes a two hour stop over at the Moldova/Romania border.

As the train rolls off the platform the conductor takes our tickets and sets up his office for the long journey westbound. He immediately strips off his uniform and gets changed into flip flops and a bright orange bathing suit. I couldn’t help but start laughing. 

There has to be a way to stay cool on this train!

The window opposite the conductors room was fully open, giving me an idea. The lack of airflow into the train was the biggest problem, so I held out the curtain with my arm to scoop the outside air into the carriage. 

The blast of hot, moist outside air hit my face. It was cooler than the inside of the train. This will work. 

I planted my self in this spot for almost two hours and slowly the gang would come by, one-by-one, to enjoy the breeze. Mark, a fellow Canadian, decided to improve on my design by making the contraption hands free. 

Every now and then I would catch the conductor enjoying the breeze. It’s for this reason why I think he didn’t shut this whole sketchy operation down. 

Hours passed and tension on the train was rising.

“Hey Dennis! Is there a German word for this heat?” I asked the only German guy in the tour group.

“Yeah. Scheisse!” quipped Mark. 

The carriage erupted in laughter. The heat was getting to us.

After the first stop, a few locals got off the train and we had the entire carriage to ourselves. I ended up moving my stuff to an empty room.. I’m sleeping on the bottom bunk tonight! Finally some good news.

I notice the conductor is now back in his uniform, while everyone else was either topless or wearing their bathing suits. Hmm.. we must be close to the border now. 

As we slow, so does the airflow and the passage of time. We all head to our cabins for the immigration officers to collect our passports.

I look out the window and notice a lot of train wheels and bogies. Hmm. Is the track gauge in Romania different than that of Moldova? Yes. Yes it is.

Slowly the train rises using four screw jacks per carriage. When the car is high enough the old bogies are replaced with new ones, then the car lowered again.

For fucks sake! Can’t we just get going again? The heat (and now smell) is getting to us.

We get our passports back and the train starts moving again. Awesome! But we’ve only completed half the battle. With Moldovan immigration out of the way we now need to tackle the Romanian entry.

The train slows again and we do the same “get in your cabins” song and dance as the immigration officers check our passports.

Michelle hands her passport to the officer and he proceeds to flip through the pages when a €5 euro note falls out. The officer quickly picks it up and hands it back to Michelle. The rest of us look at each other in disbelief. 

“Michelle, did you have a five euro note in your passport AND you handed it to an immigration officer?” I asked.

“Yeah, don’t ever, ever do that!”. Said Andy.

I notice the look of shock on Frida’s face.

“Why not?” Michelle asked innocently.

“Because they might think you are trying to bribe them?!” We all answered in unison. 

“You could get thrown in jail for that”, one of us said.

At least she learned this lesson the easy way!

We get our passports back and the train starts moving again. The air is much cooler now that night has fallen. By this time it’s about 10pm and most of us have decided to retire for the evening. 

Eight hours later I get awoken by someone shouting “Bucharest! Bucharest!”. I peek out of my sleeper to see the train conductor frantically waking us up.

We’ve pulled into the station and are late to disembark. I guess the conductor forgot to set his alarm and didn’t wake up in time to wake up our carriage. 

I jam all my stuff into my bag, get dressed and jump off the train. It’s just after 6am and already the temperature is in the high 20s. Damn this heat wave!

 

Visiting a country is like being a guest in someones home. You have to be respectful to your host and the home that they live in. 

So why is it that people act differently when they are in a foreign country? Is it because they are amongst strangers? Nobody around to judge their behaviour? If you’re only here for a few weeks, then who cares if you act like an idiot?

I walked into a restaurant to grab a burger for lunch and came across a group of people acting loud and obnoxious. This got me thinking… who is the worst tourist? 

 

Most websites are quick to blame whole nationalities. I’m even guilty of that, catching my self saying “fucking Aussies” all the time. There must be some truth to this though, take a look at this list I compiled from some quick research.  

1	2	3	4	5	Year	Source
Chinese	British	Germans	Americans	Israelis	2017	Post Magazine
Russians	Chinese	Germans	British	Saudis	2014	Yahoo
Americans	British	Russians	Chinese	Australian	2013	Business Insider
French	Russian	British	German	Chinese	2012	Forbes
Chinese	Indian	French	Russian	Mexican	2009	Perpetual Traveller Overseas

The Chinese made all 5 lists, with the British right behind with 4 mentions. So does this mean that these two groups are universally terrible when it comes to exploring the world?

I’ve also come across regional biases as well. For example, most people in South America consider Israelis to be the worst tourist. Contrast that to Europeans, who would blame the British or Americans. 

Looking for a more unbiased answer, I ran into two KLM flight attendants while on a bike tour in Mexico City.

I asked them a simple question: “Who are the most difficult passengers to deal with?”.

Without skipping a beat, one of them said, : “Russians and Greek Orthodox Jews”. The other quickly agreed.

This was a reasonable answer given they had over 35 years of combined experience as flight attendants. When I asked why, it boiled down to two things: respect and politeness. 

Nationalities aside, here is what I think makes you the worlds worst tourist:

Proper Attire

Each country has their own limit when it comes to how appropriate certain styles of clothing are. Are you showing too much skin? Are you supposed to be wearing a head covering before entering a church? Just because you can strut around in a tank top at home doesn’t mean you can do the same in another country.

Vandalism

Scratching “I was here 2017” into a monument is never cool. If you feel like you need to leave your mark on the world then check into Facebook or Foursquare instead.

Herd Effect

Being with a group of friends usually amplifies the worst behaviour. Be aware that you’re not the only ones in the restaurant or airplane.

Hygiene

Traveling is hard work. Taking that 16 hour overnight bus to save a few dollars or sitting on a 18 hour flight puts a cramp on your showering schedule. Travelling out of a suitcase also means that you might not have the cleanest of clothes. Being on the road doesn’t give you an excuse to be lazy and not use soap and water.

Being Polite

Learning a few words (like please, thank you, hello, goodbye) in the local language goes a long way. Back home, would you bark out “water!” to your server at a restaurant? Of course not. That’s essentially what you’re doing when you say, in Spanish: “agua!” without the “por favor” (please) at the end. 

Being Difficult

Trying to order a pizza in a restaurant and explaining to the server that you only want olives on half of the pizza is going to frustrate both parties. What isn’t acceptable for you, might be acceptable for them. Take a concession and just deal with what you get. Be flexible. You travelled to see how others live in this world.

Just because you’re not at home, doesn’t mean you need to treat the rest of the world as a toilet. Be self aware, you are your country’s representative.

After spending four months in South America, spring had finally arrived in the northern hemisphere. So it was time to continue my endless summer and head north to my first ever destination in Asia: Hong Kong.

I fell in love with this city immediately. It was clean, modern, and was a great way to ease into Chinese culture.

The first night had me stumbling around the streets at 2am in a jet lag induced haze. This was the first time I had experienced jet lag in the past five months. One of the advantages of my continuous travel south from North America. 

I felt like I was walking through the streets of some futuristic movie (think: Fifth Element or Total Recall). Bright neon signs in Chinese and English glared through the falling rain. Pedestrians speaking all different languages while shop keepers are trying to pull you into their stores to sell you their wares.

I found my way to Lan Kwai Fong, and area packed with bars and restaurants. It’s such a densely packed neighbourhood that in 1993 twenty-one people were killed by a human stampede as 15,000 partiers crammed into this area. 

I plopped my self down at a restaurant with a view of the street and fired up Bumble while munching on some food. 

Bumble and Tinder are a great way to meet locals, something that would pose a problem here in Hong Kong. With over 200,000 expatriates in the city, you’re bound to match with someone that is either a teacher or a banker originally from the west. 

The next day and with my jet lag cured, I decided to try some of the famous street food. Heading to the Fa Yuen Street Market I sampled as much as I could stomach. 

I wasn’t sure what I was ordering, but that’s half the fun right? Most items were $10HKD to $15HKD ($2-3CAD) and were served on a stick for easy eating. 

Feeling full after 5 or 6 skewers of mystery meat, it was time to wash it down with some beer. I was walking to a bar when I felt my phone vibrate.

You have a new Bumble match!

Awesome! It looks like I matched with an American named Becky. We chatted for a bit and set up a time and place to meet up tonight. Perfect! Not a local, but someone who lives and works in Hong Kong is good enough for me.

Later that night I walk up to the bar where we are supposed to meet and see her sipping wine on the street with her friend Jun. I introduce my self and we immediately hit it off. Turns out Becky is in between jobs and has some time to hang with me and her friends! Awesome!

The next morning we stumble across the road to a breakfast place, where Becky is a regular. I immediately order some OJ, an espresso, and poached eggs on avocado toast to quench my hang over. 

We end up spending the next two days together when she suggests that I just check out of my hostel (since it was in Kowloon, about 30-40 min away) and stay with her for the rest of my trip. Plus, it will make things easier for the beach BBQ we’re going to hit up. I get to live like a local for a bit! Yippee!

Shek O is located on the south east part of Hong Kong Island. It has some amazing views and a great sandy beach to get some sun. We arrive and our BBQ and picnic benches are waiting for us. It was a pot luck, so all of Becky’s friends and ex-coworkers brought food to share with everyone. 

We had an amazing time, drinking, eating, and chilling on the beach before having to head home. 

My time in HK was winding down and I was getting sad. Becky really made me feel at home and It would be bitter sweet to leave her behind. 

But alas, this is the life of a traveller. She made my time in HK so much fun and had injected that level socializing that I needed after being on the road solo.