International Travel Tips Archive
International Travel Tips: The 23 Weeks Pregnant Edition
During my book travel, I posted a series of International Travel Tips. Most of them revolved around how I managed to live out of a tiny green suitcase for up to five weeks and three countries at a time. Now, I'm doing it pregnant.
For me, traveling pregnant isn't near as difficult as many people imagine. I'm having an insanely easy pregnancy, and the doctor has ordered anyone who wants me to fly across oceans to speak has to fly me business class-- a luxery I've never had before. Still, there are some pregnancy-travel necessities that I've come to appreciate.
1. COMPRESSION SOCKS. Other than a Passport, this is the only thing that would get me to turn around and drive back to the house mid-airport dash. The only real threat of this kind of travel is the increased risk of bloodclots, and one of the best ways to guard against it is wearing maternity support hose. Blech. I wore them on my flight to Indonesia and was miserable. They're just not comfortable and I look about as cool as a 1980s secretary who's switched her heels for tennis shoes for the commute home. Even the maternity ones squeeze my belly more than my ankles.
But I picked up these compression foot-less socks at The Nest, a great maternity boutique in San Francisco, earlier this month, and I adore them. Anytime my ankles turn into elephant feet, I throw them on just like I'd put on legwarmers during a flight or in the evenings and the swelling goes down dramatically. Last week, I wore them under some boots walking all over New York, then caught a flight home in them, and still got home to normal, non-cankles.
They're actually comfortable too. No one minds compression around their ankles-- it's like a massage. It's the full pantyhose pushing on the belly that suck.
2. ThinkThin Bars and Decaf Green Tea Bags. I discovered ThinkThin bars when I was crashing Benchmark Capital's offices a month ago and fell in love with them. Low on sugar, high on fiber and protein and yummy, they are my new favorite ready-snack. And those are more important to have on hand pregnant, because I can't do two things I do constantly when I travel: Skip meals and then eat anything in sight.
I've also found that "decaf" doesn't exactly translate in most places. Having some tea bags in my purse at all times makes it easier to turn down coffee when I'm horribly jetlagged.
3. Maternity Trenchcoat. I got this awesome coat at The Bump, a maternity boutique in Brooklyn that Mr. Lacy discovered while he was working in NYC earlier this year. It's hands-down the best maternity store I've found, and this trench was one of the best things I bought. No jackets button these days-- obviously-- and that's a problem living in windy San Francisco. This trench is great on the road too, because it keeps the wind out, but is incredibly lightweight, packs easily and doesn't wrinkle. It's an instant way to look pulled together-- looking fitted and classic up top, with plenty of room to flare at the belly.
4. Atlas Visa. Regular readers know the most annoying part of all my book travel was dealing with VISAS. Because my husband and I were bootstrapping this book and strapped for cash, I couldn't afford expediters and spent days at consulates, mostly begging to get documents in the short windows I had between trips. Thankfully, a full-time job has changed that, and the best visa expediter I've worked with is Atlas Visa in Washington DC. They've got great relationships with each consulate and are super efficient.
5. Pinky Ball. For those who don't know the way around a pilates studio, this is a hard pink ball about the size of a fist that rolls out all your tense muscles. It takes up little space, and put it on knots in your back and rock back-and-forth in your seat or against a wall, and you've got an in flight massage.
Note to Self: I Am a Stupid Emerging Markets Poser.
So. I like to pride myself on being slightly more badass than your usual expat or traveling reporter when it comes to emerging markets. I don't fly business or first class, and I don't hire car services. I hate making a schedule before I leave prefering to scrounge around locally to find great stories. I'm incredibly zen when things go wrong or take too long. Forty weeks in developing countries, and I have found my peace with "island time," "African time," "Indian time," "Brazilian time" or any other time you can throw at me.
Meet me in any country where I've spent more than than a week, and I will take you to an awesome, very local, off-the-beaten path place for dinner and tell you what to order. (cc: Anthony Bourdain) My friend Christopher is a bad-ass travel reporter who spends months at a time just roaming around parts of Africa,and I managed to impress him with a restaurant choice in Rwanda.
"How'd you find this place?" he asked, as our RAV-4 lurched up a clay, deeply-furroted, steep hill to a small bluff side restaurant lit by candlelight, excelling in its whole, freshly-caught-and-grilled Tilapia.
"Oh, it's just a little place I know," I shrugged.
Yep. I'm just a traveling badass.
Except, I'm not really. I'm a traveling bad-ass compared to many Americans, sure. But I've realized in the past 48 hours just how much I rely on a hotel staff-- even a bad hotel staff. This epiphany hasn't hit because I've had great service. And not because I've had poor service either. But because I'm staying in a friend-of-a-friend's apartment in Jakarta, and I've had no service at all. The apartment is great, like a nice hotel room, but the thing that missing is the human layer. No one just downstairs helping me flag down cabs, get directions, hook up my wifi, get a SIM card, bring me food at 1 am. I can't dial zero and get anything, partially because there's no phone.
I don't want to give the impression I've been neglected-- quite the opposite. People have been swarming offering to help me out with things since I've been in Jakarta. I keep having to say: "I'm fine, guys!" But a hotel staff is different. They aren't friends or sources. They are people there to do stuff for you and trained to relate to obnoxious tourists and Westerners. The problem with that? They enable obnoxious toursts and Westerners. Yes, I've had to face, even me.
Pampering is fine, but it creates distance if you're trying to understand a place. Just wandering (read: getting utterly lost in a slum) around my apartment yesterday, I got insight to Jakarta I didn't see from looking out my window at this same neighborhood from the Shangri-La the trip before. Now that I've had a larger taste of non-hotel life, I may panhandle borrrowed apartments everywhere. My badass pride is at stake.
Q: Is AXN the Best TV Channel in the World?
A: Yes.
I might give AXN an acknowledgment in my book. I have watched it in every country around the world. It represents the best of guilty American pleasures: Damages, CSI Miami, Numbers, American Idol, House....you name it. It's frequently the only English-speaking channel on hotel TV.
Any American who travels internationally knows exactly what I am talking about.
International Travel Tip: DON'T BE NICE TO PEOPLE ON AIRPLANES.
There's one place in the world where I seem to break promises and that's on this site. Not only did I stop crossposting stuff from TechCrunch and promoting my BusinessWeek columns (something you know I'm remedying if you've been reading lately), but I also promised an international travel tip for each trip. And then I forgot. I suppose the China one could be "Don't split a bottle of Baijiu, or if you do, don't take valuable possessions out with you that night."
My India one is more cynical: Don't be nice to people on airplanes.
Last night, I was boarding the second leg of my flight to India-- a brutal 15 hour one. In coach. In what was supposed to be an exit row, but wasn't. In what was supposed to be an aisle seat, but wasn't. Behind two crying children. I saw the seat, and immediately made sure I'd packed either an Ambien or a suicide pill.
But it wasn't all bad. I wasn't dead-center of the row, had a tiny polite Indian man sitting next to me, and an empty seat on the other side. I can make that work.
Just then a guy came up and begged me to switch with him because he had an elderly grandfather he needed to sit next to. Everyone else in my section looked down at a magazine, hoping they wouldn't get asked in case I said no. I politely agreed to move, provided that he could find a place for my suitcase. Overhead space was at a huge premium on this flight and, as readers know, I NEVER check a bag. He said he'd just swap it with his bag. I didn't actually see this happen, he just came and told me he did and I took his word for it.
Oh, and I got to the seat-- dead center, next to a young child, in a seat that didn't recline. You've got to be kidding me.
The flight wasn't so bad, thanks to the Ambien and eight months of international travel that has trained me to go into a zen-like state even in the worst coach situation. I slept about 10 hours of it, and wasn't even that annoyed that the kid next to me pretty much slept half in my seat most of the time. Then we went to de-plane and wouldn't you know it? My bag is NOWHERE IN SIGHT. As you can see from the picture on the link above, it's a bright green bag and hard to miss. I had to wait for the entire plane to deplane, then I, the guy who I was doing "a huge favor for" and about three flight attendants searched every single bin on the plane. No bag.
They told me to leave the plane and go with an agent to arrivals where we'd try to find whoever took it. Oh lovely. In the tunnel from the plane to the gate, I looked at the guy and just said "Unbelievable." And he brushed it off saying, "Hey, it's not my fault. I put it in the bin." At which point-- after some 24 hours of travel and the prospect of nearly a month in India with no clothes-- I snapped a bit. "As far as I'm concerned this is exactly your fault. I did you a favor; I didn't see you move the bag; you were the last one to touch it and now it's mysteriously gone. That's certainly not my fault."
A flight attendant immediately snapped at me and told me I needed to take a deep breath and apologize to him. Um.....does anyone else think I was out of line? Under the circumstances, I think I'd been quite calm until this point.
Before I could cause a bigger scene, the suitcase was produced as if from nowhere by a flight attendant. "See it's not his fault!" she said.
"Where was it?" I demanded.
"In the bin where he said he'd put it," she said.
Hmm...that's interesting considering all five of us looked in that bin-- and every other bin on the plane-- and didn't see it. Reminded me of my favorite children's book "Morris's Disappearing Bag." American Airlines must have disappearing bins just to create such dramatic situations. I literally can not think of another answer. It's too bad they told me to leave the plane just minutes before it was reproduced, because I would have love to have seen that magic trick.
Anyway, I stomped off, went through customs and got in a car to the hotel. But I'm still annoyed that I gave myself a far-worse seat on a 15-hour plane ride, was essentially detained a good thirty minutes, and then got treated like the bad guy by everyone. That will teach me to be nice.
Of course, the really sad thing is I'm such a push-over I'd do it again if someone with an elderly grandparent asked. I'd just move the damn bag myself.
I have to add as a post-script: I hope this losing or almost-losing of bags on every trip isn't a new trend for me. I'm already on a backup backpack, borrowed camera, and spare laptop after the China-Baijiu debacle. It's particularly fitting given the working title of the book in progress is "Nothing to Lose." Pretty soon I'm going to embody it! And that's ironic because with my last book, "Once You're Lucky, Twice You're Good," plenty of reviewers mused that I may have just been lucky with the first book. I think I'm naming my third book: "I Just Won a Million Dollars" just in case there's something to the trend.
International Travel Tip #4: FLATS, LADIES!
When I was coming home from Rwanda, a security woman in the Belgian airport almost called the security dogs on me, because she couldn't possibly believe that I had two weeks of clothes, shoes, and unmentionables in a tiny rolley bag and backpack. If she'd realized half the backpack is a camera and lenses, she would have been all the more shocked, no doubt. I got a more favorable review of my light packing genius from a male friend who said I should teach classes....specifically to his wife.
So here's a tip for the ladies on packing light: Flats. This may sound dumb or obvious, but heels just do not pack well. There is no way to squeeze anything around them efficiently enough to make them worth bringing. The shape is as impractical for packing as it is for, well, walking.
Now, I am a massive fan of heels, and when flats started becoming popular again I swore I wouldn't wear them. I even wore heels the year I was writing my last book-- a time I didn't get haircuts, wear much makeup or wear a single dress if memory serves. Once I was clomping into brunch with Jay Adelson wearing my favorite black heels and a homeless woman stopped me and said "Are those actually comfortable?" "What do you think?" I answered. They weren't comfortable. But sleek black heels have always made me feel like I could take on the world.
Oh well. At least there are a bevvy of cute flats on the market. I only take one pair per trip and swap them out each time so I don't feel dowdy.
That's right, I have become a full-on flats convert with this book. Well, almost. I keep packing one pair of Tory Burch shoes just for when I want that heels boost. But it's a sacrifice. Look how much more room they take up!
I told them they could come on one last trip to London, but it's all flats to Brazil!
International Travel Tip #3: Cheapoair.com
Editor's Note: I suck, guys. I wrote this on the flight to Rwanda and forgot to post it. But good news! You get another tip tomorrow when I head to London!
Here I am in seat 20A embarking on another long day of international travel. This time I’m headed to Rwanda. It’s my second trip this year, and I cannot wait to get back. Only about 28 hours to go! Mr. Lacy is joining me for the second week of my trip. This cute guy pictured here is one of the famous Rwandan silverbacks. I snapped this on my last trip. We’ll see if Mr. Famous-Photographer-Geoffrey-Ellis can do better…
But let’s get down to business. Another flight means another travel tip for you. This one is a site called Cheapoair.com. Ever heard of it? I hadn’t before a few months ago. I found it because it was one of the only sites online that would sell me a plane ticket to Rwanda. In fact, when I booked my first ticket to Rwanda on it, I worried whether it was actually legit.
Cheapoair doesn’t have the best interface or functionality, but unlike most online travel sites that basically show you the same fares, Cheapoair has a way broader selection of international flights, including ones operated by niche foreign carriers. (I’m on a Brussels Air flight now, for instance.) Downside: A lot of times there are steep foreign taxes, so make sure you look at the taxes (in parenthesis on the main listing page) before you get excited.
And although the fares are frighteningly expensive, both my flights to Rwanda were far cheaper on Cheapoair than ones I saw elsewhere. The one I got in February was thousands of dollars less than the competition. (Not quite so lucky this time around…)
Int’t Travel Tips: Tiny Bottles of Hot Sauce Come in Handy
Growing up in BBQ country, I think my taste buds got seared off at a young age. As a result I love things extremely spicy. I seem to remember some report that Martha Stewart stashed some herbs in her bra before she went to jail. I’m like that with hot sauce. Well, it’s not in my bra. That sounds weird and uncomfortable. But every time I see a tiny bottle of hot sauce at, say, a fancy brunch restaurant or a room service tray, I snag it for my travel backpack.
I actually ripped this idea off of Brian Solis. It’s smart: You just never know when a tiny bottle of hot sauce will come in handy. It’s about to come in handy for me in about 30 minutes. Last night was the San Francisco birthday dinner for the incomparable Brooke Hammerling, and we went through about 800 bottles of very expensive wine, much of it older than me. As a result, I’m a little achy for my flight to Shanghai. A bloody mary is definitely in order after take-off. Make that a spicy bloody mary thanks to my little friend mini-Tobasco.
Note: Tobasco is actually my least favorite hot sauce but seems to be the only one in mini-bottles.
Int’l Travel Tips: The Perfect Suitcase
I’m on a flight to Israel now, and I’m feeling pretty smug. Ladies and gentlemen: I have gotten international travel down. Of course, it’s easy if you’re rich. You settle into your first class or business class seat and practically get massages and pedicures while you fly. Sadly, I’m not rich, despite my half-dozen jobs. As I write this I am in row 32, middle seat firmly wedged back in coach.
Travel is always a pain these days, but international travel for the not-so-rich—especially to far flung parts of Africa and Asia— has its own unique headaches including no cozy direct flights, several days of travel-time, the lack of reliable baggage check in the developing world and connections and long layovers in airports that are every bit as “emerging” as their economies. As such, I’m quickly becoming an expert in all the products that make even the longest trip not only bearable but comfortable.
Since I’m spending nearly 40 weeks in other countries over the next year and a half, I thought it might be fun to blog about a can’t-leave-home-without travel find or tip on each departing flight from San Francisco. If you want to read all of them, they’ll be tagged under “International Travel Tips.”
Today, I am writing about my favorite find: The perfect suitcase. It honestly makes me happy just to look at it, as you can see from the photo Mr. Lacy took this morning. It’s made by Hideo Wakamatsu and for all you San Franciscians, they’ve got a store in the Mission. As a sucker for design, I adore the day-glow green color (I have a purse in the same hue, believe it or not), the grey trim and the compact shape. In fact, that’s why I bought it just before I went to Africa in February. But during the trip I discovered so many other things to love.
For one, it’s light as a feather. Shockingly so. I can pick it up over my head easily even fully packed. With my old suitcase, I always had to do that southern girl thing and ask some gent to lift it into the overhead for me. I had no idea how convenient this would be traveling in Africa, where a lot of airports don’t have escalators or elevators, just lots and lots of stairs. The only thing I’d complain about is the lack of a handle on the side, which would make it even easier to lift.
When you unzip it, there are two compartments, and there’s only a thin layer of fabric that sits between your stuff and the hard metal exterior of the case. That means nearly every inch goes to storage space. And while the hard case won’t bow out if you over-pack, there is some elastic give around the zipper.
The best part: THE WHEELS. You can tap this suitcase with one finger and send it flying down a long hallway. That sounds stupid, but anyone who has had to pull a traditional rolley-bag through a huge airport or down several blocks knows the strain it starts to put in your arm. This bag all but jogs along side you. And the wheels work in every direction. So when you’re passing through a narrow space, like the airplane aisle, you just swivel it to the side and keep wheeling.
I know I sound like a Hideo commercial here, but it’s rare that a product brings me continual delight the more I use it. I actually smile every time I see it in my house. I’m making Mr. Lacy get one before he goes back to Africa with me in June, because all the vaccines in the world won’t keep him from dying of jealousy at how easy mine is to pack, lift and navigate around. Fortunately for him, they do come in more masculine colors.
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An unforgettable portrait of the emerging world's entrepreneurial dynamos Brilliant, Crazy, Cocky is the story about that top 1% of people who do more to change their worlds through greed and ambition than politicians, NGOs and nonprofits ever can. This new breed of self-starter is taking local turmoil and turning it into opportunities, making millions, creating thousands of jobs and changing the face of modern entrepreneurship at the same time. To tell this story, Lacy spent forty weeks traveling through Asia, South America and Africa hunting down the most impressive up-and-comers the developed world has never heard of....yet.
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Sarah Lacy is an award-winning reporter who has covered high-growth entrepreneurship for more than fifteen years. She is the founder, CEO and Editor-in-Chief of PandoDaily.com, the site-of-record for the startup ecosystem. She lives in San Francisco.
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