The Curse of the Professional Travel Writer; December 2, 2010
A lifestyle that sounds so magical and so far away that I can only relish in the short moments I get to experience it as a civilian. An interesting view from the other side.
By MATT GROSS
https://getcurrency.com/blog/the-curse-of-the-professional-travel-writer
When I was a kid growing up in the 1980s, I wanted to be an astronaut. Back then, in the days before the Challenger Space Shuttle disaster, this was a pretty common aspiration. In fact, whenever an adult asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I probably didn't even have to mull the question over at all. Surrounded by Star Wars figures and books about space, it was just obvious: Being an astronaut would be the best job in the world.
As it happened, I did not become an astronaut. Near-sightedness, a lack of athletic ability, and a distaste for science pretty much guaranteed I would never escape the Earth's atmosphere.
I did, however, wind up with a job that people generally describe as the best in the world: I'm a travel writer. I go on trips to far-off, exotic places, have a good time, and send the bills to whichever publication sent me there. Pretty sweet, eh? It certainly beats picking grapes or delivering pizza (two other jobs I've done-and enjoyed).
But-and this is not a complaint, just an observation-being a professional travel writer has changed how I travel. Drastically.
Here's what most people do when they're planning a trip: They figure out which dates they and their loved ones can get off work, book flights as cheaply as possible, and pick out a few key sights to see, restaurants to eat at, and activities to do. At least, I think that's what normal people do. It's been so long since I've traveled as a civilian that I've forgotten how it goes.
This is how I plan a trip: First of all, I'm not just going to Paris or Rome or Tokyo. I'm going to these places with a particular theme in mind, whether it's "pre-Revolution Paris" or "Roman modernism" or "manga Tokyo." That means that everything I do should fit within that theme: the hotel, the restaurants, the activities. That great new bistro, that cool working-class neighborhood, the crazy art gallery-I may want to check them out, but if they don't fit the theme, I'll skip them. In fact, if I find myself with free time on one of these trips, I'll as often as not just retreat to my thematically appropriate hotel and do nothing whatsoever. After enough of these professional trips, I've learned to conserve energy whenever I can.
Again, this is not a complaint. It's just an indication of how different travel is for people who travel for a living.
And it's a way to explain to you my current dilemma: After so many trips, I can't quite remember what it is that I like to do when I travel. Sure, I like to eat, to go running and hiking, and to meet new people. But somehow, without a saleable theme, those interests seem impossibly vague.
I'm confronting a double dose of this issue right now, actually, as I'm planning a two-week vacation with my wife and daughter in Los Angeles, and a weeklong trip with my brother to Montreal. What the heck are we going to do in these places? Just wander around and hang out? Is that the kind of adventure they expect to get with a Professional Travel Writer onboard?
But the thing is, I've forgotten something else. Most people don't travel alone, as I do when I'm working. And when you've got a friend, sibling or spouse with you, you can leave the important decisions up to them. For me, that's a real vacation.