The Renegade Writer Blog

10. My American accent offered no clues to my nationality. Four times I was asked if I was British. Once, Canadian. Another time two guys in an elevator inquired “Australian or American?” The rest of the time, after some polite conversation, I was always asked where in the world I was from. Point 10A: I learned how irritating it can be to be asked three or four times a day, “Where are you from?”

9. It’s not wise to use the “I’m an underpaid writer from the U.S.” excuse for not buying a pashmina shawl or a silver bracelet. I was a Westerner in the middle of Rajasthan, ergo I was rich. I quickly learned to blame my penury on a cheap, controlling husband back in Boston. This earned me a smidgen of sympathy. Sorry, honey.

8. I can put up with anything for a night, sometimes two. Sleeping 50 feet away from a snake-infested lagoon, midnight tinkles in an outdoor toilet, cold showers, five-hour car rides on single-lane roads pockmarked with brain-jangling holes, power outages, lack of Internet access … bring it on.

7. When I’m traveling, my native bashfulness vanishes. This may be hard for some of you to believe, but I’m morbidly shy. However, armed with a notepad, pen, and camera, watch out. I’ll ask anyone anything (much to my travel companion’s amusement) and even jump in harm’s way to squeeze off a good shot of a 4-ton elephant.

6. I like squat toilets. Especially if you’re wearing a kurta and loose-legged pants, they’re clean — no bottom on toilet seat issues — and efficient. However, it’s really a good idea to bring toilet paper if you’re not into the bucket-of-water-and-left-hand method of personal hygiene.

5. Don’t tell people I’m a travel writer. Travel writers are as common as mosquitoes in India. It’s better to say you’re a food writer and recipe developer, or that you write about a spas, or your beat is emerging economies. When you specifically tell people what you’re after, they’ll fall all over themselves to help you get your story.

6. Dry humor and sarcasm are best left at home. I had to learn this the hard way. Eventually, I learned to count to five before speaking, but it took me until day 10 of a 12-day trip.

5. Blackberries work everywhere, even in the backwaters of Kerala. I was really impressed with my friend’s unit. Unfortunately, they don’t do well when they’ve been splashed by cumin water (see point #2).

4. Your bag can make or break your trip. Spend money to get a bag that does what you need it to do. I was very happy with my Overland Equipment “Loie” bag, which I purchased from EMS. It held my business cards, wallet, passport, tickets, notebook, pens, DEET, reading glasses, an energy bar, a small bottle of water, cell phone, PDA, and even a trade paperback, but it was never bulky, heavy, or difficult to find what I needed in the bag. No fanny pack required! I’m going to buy more in different colors for upcoming trips.

3. Your travel companion can also make or break your trip. I felt blessed that my travel partner, also a writer, and I got along so well. We had some moments during the trip where moods could have gone south fast (declined American Express cards, ruined Blackberries, lost reading glasses) but we managed to get through these moments with compassion, understanding, and humor.

2. When it comes to reporting, stick with the basics. While I had my laptop with me, there were times the battery needed recharging or we didn’t have Internet access. My travel companion had been taking her notes on her Blackberry, but when it met with a dousing, it gave her trouble for the rest of the trip. My best tools were the pens and steno notebook I carried everywhere with me. Even when one of my pens started leaking, it was easy enough to get my hands on another pen.

1. It sure is nice to be home. [db]

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