“You know, all those boxes under the stairs are yours,” Dad reminded me last week, before he departed for vacation and left me in charge of his house. “It’s all there if you want to take a look.”

I wasn’t sure if the statement was a gentle encouragement to whimsically explore the artifacts of my childhood or a delicate hint to get the pile of sentimental garbage out of his house. Maybe a little of both.

“I know,” I replied dismissively.

“Okay,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I’m just letting you know.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I had zero intention of rooting through the paraphernalia from my youth. The boxes, as far as I could remember, contained elementary school art projects, high school essays and university textbooks. Someday, when I have a permanent home, I will be happy to take responsibility for the boxes. But for now, I figured it was best to keep things tucked away.

But yesterday, after an intensive morning of editing a surprisingly imperfect passage in my soon-to-be-released travel memoir, I was struck with a wave of restlessness, and my Dad’s suggestion proved to be the perfect procrastination activity. I went downstairs, opened the little stairwell door, pulled the stringed light bulb and crawled inside to see what the past had in store.

*

It would be inaccurate to describe the experience of rooting through a box of childhood memorabilia as “nostalgic.” Nostalgia is a yearning for time gone by, a certain sentimentality for the good old days. Despite relatively happy memories of my childhood, I have no desire to go back. Revisiting my long-lost treasures sparked a sensation best described as the intersection of mild indifference and general relief. In regards to childhood, I succeeded to remain alive and life is now better.

I suppose we all have our personal reasons why reflecting back over the years might not be the most appealing of activities. For instance, what if we come across concrete evidence of a childhood riddled with unspectacularness?

As I went deeper into the boxes, my lack of prodigy became abundantly clear. Some of the material in the boxes was cute and culturally charming, for example the pink clay imprint of my two-year-old hand or the paper cut-out of Bonhomme. But much of the material was cringe-inducing, such as the duo-tang of poetry from Grade 7.  At first I wondered if the anthology of verses written by a twelve-year-old me would contain something that I could point to and confidently say, “Herein lies the early evidence of a master wordsmith!” But no, there was nothing remarkable. The poems were lovable in the way that a parent loves an ugly child, and I felt a surge of remorse for subjecting my seventh grade teacher to stale haikus and lifeless limericks. The boxes were filled with stuff that was, at best, precious and sentimental. And, at worst, it was regurgitative, demonstrating a generous amount of creative mediocrity.

And so, slightly defeated, I began repacking the boxes. If I felt ambitious in the coming days, I figured I might pull them out again, not for reminiscing but as an attempt to actually clear space for my Dad. Really, is there any point in holding onto my safety goggles from high school chemistry class? How many poorly drawn crayon horses are enough? And what’s that Jewel album still doing there?

But as I was about to place the lid back over the final box of memories, I noticed something that I had overlooked, and immediately picked it up. The fact that it still existed provoked a small sigh: a simple manila folder full of magazine clippings.

*

When I was in my late teens and early twenties I used to seek out printed material, anything that might contain photographs of nature, portraits of musicians, compelling words or interesting patterns. Alone in my room I would rake through pages and cut out whatever inspired me, often tearing through pages of Rolling Stone magazine, university newspapers and travel brochures. I vividly remember the ritual – the crinkle of glossy paper, the crunch of scissors, the matching of quotes with photographs – as I prowled for images and words that reflected my personal identity.

After I had enough material, I would use blue sticky tack to cover my walls with a hodgepodge of words and images, curating a visual representation of the reality I hoped to create. Eventually I’d step back from the collage and say, “Yes. That’s it. That’s what I want to become.”

Yet, at some point, all of these images and words got taken down. They were placed in a folder, which was put in a box, which was tucked into a dark space under the stairs of a home that I don’t actually live in, destined for a future alongside Bonhomme and bad poems.

That small sigh elicited when I opened the folder didn’t come from nostalgia or regret or despair. It came from relief, from the realization that stuff gets tucked away when it no longer serves a purpose. At some point I simply stopped making collages because I no longer needed to craft a reality external from the one I was living.

Daniel
Prince George, British Columbia

*

*

A man dressed as Jesus is pole dancing on the bar. Beneath his crown of thorns, beads of sweat have begun to form across his forehead, which is understandable because he’s working the pole like he’s attempting to invent fire. Encouraging onlookers tuck dollar bills into his makeshift loincloth. The scene isn’t overly erotic, although Jesus does have an exceptionally firm torso. Instead it’s just a typical grimy gay pub with a selection of feel-good pop remixes and cheap beer that just happens to have a pole-dancing Jesus. The whole situation is warmly defiant.

This is Easter long weekend. Whereas some people are gathering around family tables to eat roasted hams, I’ve embarked upon my first-ever visit to Seattle to get together with long-distance friends and to finally explore a place that I have always considered too geographically immediate to actually warrant a trip. Much of the weekend has been spent walking along the bumpy avenues and sampling the restaurants in the Capitol Hill district. But now my friends have returned to their respective lives, and my boat back to Canada doesn’t leave until tomorrow. So I’ve come to a pub called Pony for a beer or two.

I figured I would simply sit in relative aloneness and observe the setting. But solitude can have a counterintuitive magnetic effect, and after a few minutes of flipping through a local entertainment newspaper while casually looking around the room, I am befriended by two other sociable loners. Patty is a local woman who works as an executive assistant. She has thick-rimmed wingtip eyeglasses and cherry lipstick that emphasizes the most encouraging smile one could possibly imagine. Tony is Chinese-Dutch man who recently moved to Seattle. With a permanent and mischievous smile, he might best be described as younger, more flirtatious version of the Dalia Lama. The three of us chat about the city while, a few feet away, Jesus continues to gyrate.

“I just LOVE coming to this bar,” Patty gushes. “There are just so many interesting people!”

Tony offers to buy me a beer, and I do not refuse. While he’s gone, Patty begins the most cordial of cross-examinations.

“So Daniel, what do you do?”

“I’m a writer,” I reply tentatively.

Patty responds with the same expression I often see when I tell people what I do. A mixture of delight and bewilderment is scribbled across her face.

*

A few weeks ago, I was rummaging through the memoir section of a secondhand bookstore when I came across an intriguing title: What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. As a runner, I’m fascinated by what compels others to submit themselves to the monotony of the solo endeavor. This specific book, by acclaimed Japanese author Haruki Murakami, examines the intersection of writing and running. I immediately purchased it and proceeded to spend the next few days lapping up Murakami’s words like Gatorade on race day. I felt as though I had come across a kindred spirit.

As he outlines the months leading to one of his runnings of the New York City Marathon (he’s done it multiple times), Murakami talks about a variety of subjects and frequently goes on anecdotal tangents. Perhaps the tangent I appreciated the most was when he shared his perspective on what he believes are the necessary qualities of a successful writer:

- Talent.

- Endurance.

- Focus.

“Do I have these qualities?” I couldn’t help but wonder. Of these variables, there are two that I do not worry about at all. But one characteristic continues to be elusive.

Talent is difficult to define, but to Murakami it’s one of those things that you have or you don’t, and the writer cannot control its amount or quality. I don’t invest much time in worrying about whether or not I am talented because the question is external to my greater objective, which is to simply write a book. Time will tell if I possess any fragments of talent.

Endurance, I believe, is simply the ability to deal with discomfort. To a certain degree, I’ve been blessed with an appreciation for pain, honored with a penchant for mildly masochistic activities. In the past, I have sought out experiences laced with discomfort: hot yoga, treeplanting, long-distance running, long-term travel. I’m not worried about my ability to endure.

Focus is the tough one for me. I am an easily distracted person predisposed to daydreaming and procrastination. Murakami describes focus as “the ability to concentrate all your limited talents on whatever’s critical at the moment.” If I am to succeed as a writer it will because I have found ways to enhance focus, to maximize concentration.

Luckily I know what is necessary to cultivate focus – it’s simply a matter of prioritization and the removal of distractions. Focus is about saying “no” to things. And not simply to the amusements of Facebook or alcohol, but sometimes to projects and sometimes to people. Focus is the process of a thousand rejections. And this is hard, because whether we’re giving or receiving it, rejection is rarely pleasant. Finally, self-isolation is also helpful for cultivating focus. The challenge with this, of course, is not going stark-raving mad. We need people around us to keep the mind balanced.

Maybe that’s why I have ended up at a bar with a dude dressed as Jesus dancing on a pole. I need people.

*

Jesus has stepped down off the bar and is now in plainclothes, eating an apple and chatting with friends.

“His name is James,” Patty tells me. “He’s a social worker in palliative care. You couldn’t find a better human being.” A few minutes later Jesus/James has disappeared from the pub. I didn’t see him leave.

After a couple of beers, I notice that my head is becoming woozy. This is an indication that, should I wish the evening to be remembered as charming, it’s time to make my own exit. So as effortlessly as we merged together, Patty, Tony and I prepare to go our separate ways.

“I just can’t wait to read your book!” Patty says as she claps her hands together and then administers a sincere hug. For an instant, I wonder if there is any way to preserve some of her enthusiasm and save it for a later date. Maybe I could throw it into focus-enhancing protein smoothie. I don’t tell her, but Patty’s zeal is deeply appreciated.

It’s taken a few years, but I’m beginning to feel semi-comfortable saying, “I’m a writer.” This tentativeness was not from believing I had no talent, but more because I felt like a poser or a wannabe. On some level I probably am these things. But the more I write, the more I feel entitled to the statement. Just like the more a person runs, the more she inevitably becomes a runner.

For me, the greater challenge is to focus. To my disadvantage, however, the world is tragically stocked with interesting people.

Daniel
Seattle, Washington

As of 11:52 AM yesterday morning (the 28^th of February), my first book has officially been written. In fact, my editor Monique confirmed that I was now entitled to state the exciting yet slightly arrogant nugget: “I have written a book!”

Well, sort of.

Before I dance around demanding congratulatory pats on the back, I should really qualify that statement. I’ve officially completed a manuscript, not a shiny, perfected piece of art. Just because a guy has written some words, doesn’t make them necessarily good. The task now is to transfer into an editorial stage, and move this amorphous blob of 120 000+ words into something that resembles a tightly packaged work of travel non-fiction.

So please, hold your applause.

Since late December I’ve been in Victoria, Canada, staying in my mother’s spare bedroom and attempting to complete a memoir that has been lingering on my to-do list for over a year now. My average day includes rolling out of my horse blanket covered bed around 7 AM, fixing myself a coffee and then wandering aimlessly around the Internet for an hour while waiting for the stimulating consequences of the java to take full effect. Eventually I instruct myself, in a stern tone, that I cannot avoid work any longer. So I procrastinate a bit more by brushing my teeth and, more recently, by changing into clothes that I did not sleep in the previous night. I’ve learned that adhering to small self-imposed rituals is a helpful behavior. And I’ve been applying these words of wisdom:

“Get up. Dress up. Show up. And don’t give up.” (fun poster here!)

Some days, good headway is made on the book. Some days, I drag my knuckles and detest that fact that the written word exists. But as long as the ink flows, I generally feel a sense of satisfaction. Miraculously, my commitment to this project has not waivered. In fact, I’m still eager to birth this book, despite the prolonged gestation period. And, in a way, I’ve grown to appreciate the process, which has been its own educative experience, its own adventure while I remain less geographically frenetic.

Luckily, I manage to incorporate more into my day-to-day life than simply hunching over a computer with coffee-breath and yesterday’s underwear. After I’ve purged as many words as I feel capable for the day, I throw in the literary towel and try to do things that don’t involve glowing screens. Common activities include jogging through the surrounding suburbs, prepping spicy crockpot meals and zealously knitting ugly socks — I’m in a MAJOR sock-knitting phase right now. And if all of these activities lack immediate appeal, it’s usually a surefire bet that my sister would appreciate an extra set of hands to manage her two untamed toddlers. After which, I’m usually more than content to return to the solitude of writing. It’s a cyclical lifestyle. This current phase of my life is not glamorous, but it’s never boring. Boredom is a byproduct of boring people.

So, apart from immediate access to my charming but geographically-scatter friends, I suppose the only thing missing from my life right now is a torrid and all-consuming love affair. But really, is anyone entitled to moan about lack of romance? #GetSomeRealProblems

I’ll shut my mouth. And count my blessings.

[Sidenote: If you, however, know any available babes, my email address is listed in the 'contact' section...]

At the top of the list of blessings is the free room and board from my mother. In one of Canada’s sleepiest cities, suburban life with Mommsie Cheryl is as dazzling as one could imagine. Yet, due to the lack of distractions (I’m looking at you Montréal), this environment is actually quite conducive to getting work done. And I generally get a kick out of hanging around my family members.

For instance, Cheryl is quite the character – she’s one tough cookie. When my sister and I were younger, my mother forbade us from watching teenage television staples, such as The Simpsons and any music video on MTV, fearing that exposure to pop culture would somehow corrode our fragile developing brains. These days, mom likes to spend her evenings watching gory crime scene investigation shows while munching on Hawkin’s Cheezies. I guess she’s changed, become less of a tough cookie. Perhaps this is what the years do to us all?

And speaking of years, I sometimes wonder how I will look back upon this chapter of my life? It lacks the glamor of my year of world travel. But also is far more satisfying than the confusion of my early twenties. This phase is all about production, focus, good behavior. Perhaps it will be remembered as a time when my bank account was low, but my ambition was high. A moment where I was not quite satiated, but certainly not uncomfortable. A phase where my simple ambition was to keep moving forward.

To get up. Dress up. Show up. And not give up.

And yes, that means changing out of yesterday’s underwear.

xoxo

Daniel
Victoria, British Columbia

PS: Here are some photographs of where I write.

*

This is where the magic happens.

*

Notes to myself about continuity in character portrayal.

[Editorial Note: Daniel is NOT a spectacular speller.]

*

Flowers decorate the room.

*

I sleep among wild horses.

*

The guest room also features a learning library.

*

The closet is shared with holiday wrapping paper and a selection of my mother’s coats.

*

Lacy shades cover the venetian blinds

*

[preface] It’s been over a year since I’ve written in this “Letter Home” format. It’s a warmly familiar return to the design I used to relate my mixed bag of sentiments from my 2011 journey. During that travelling phase, I wrote a letter each week. My goal for this year is to write one letter per month – a bit of communication, without being burdensome. And so it begins.

Communication has been on my mind lately, and more specifically, how I converse on the web. As an active participant in the vast universe of 21^st century communication, I have access to a myriad of platforms: email, Tumblr, Pinterest, a personal website and more. It’s difficult to know where to devote my energy, and what the return on investment will be. At the moment I’ve decided to tinker. One of these experiments involves taking a step back from Facebook and Twitter for a few months. The idea behind this – or at least part of it – is to eliminate distractions, and sharpen my focus on a book project that I would very much like to complete. But I’m also very curious to measure the impact of “absence” on social media. In the sheer volume of data we receive, I’m wondering if my abstinence will be noted to any significant extent?  If not, then perhaps it’s time to reassess how I engage with that messy thing we call the Internet.

These thoughts have been brewing for a few months. In October I watched a video featuring one of my intellectual crushes, Mr. Jonathan Harris, speaking at a PSFK Conference about his personal quest to humanize the Internet, or at least how he relates to the Internet. I was particularly struck by one idea he outlined about moving from the current frenetic state of cyber behavior to more intentional forms of participation. For Mr. Harris, this entailed a transfer from disposability, curation and self-promotion to timelessness, creation and self-reflection. I suppose I saw many of my own behaviors on the list of frenetic actions.

Self-promotion is considered an important factor to “get ahead” in the competitive virtual race. It’s vital in constructing a cyber-community, but also in breaking through the tsunami of sensationalist Internet rubbish. Admittedly, self-promotion has served me well. I tooted my own twitter-horn, and it has led to a certain amount of online success. Yet, after four years of slogging through the cyber trenches, I’m unsure if self-promoting behavior is what I want my default Internet strategy to be. I yearn to bring more depth than a Facebook status update about the delicious dinner that I just happened to throw together (drenched in the subtext that I’m effortlessly skilled and endlessly creative), or a calculated Instagram selfie that features my latest hipster haircut (which might just get a 20 “likes” if I capture myself at the most complementary of angles). I don’t want to pander to the lowest common denominator. Which is all fine and dandy, but still leaves me with a greater question: how do I make my cyber contributions add up to something more meaningful?

Perhaps it starts with the cessation of shouting for the sake of being heard – something I’ve been guilty of in the past. My grandma used to encourage us to monitor what came out of our mouths. She said: “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” When I translate these sentiments into an adage for Internet behavior, it reads: “If you don’t have anything valuable to post, then shut the hell up.”

My approach is to apply these intentional words – a type of filter – to what I share on the Internet. I must ask myself: “Does what I’m about to share have value beyond my own self-promotion?” It’s a big question, and one that is difficult navigate on my own. In fact, i t would be great if you could help. I ask for your assistance with keeping me inline, while I continue to tinker with my presence online.

And maybe together we can make this Internet vortex a bit more meaningful.

Thank you,

Daniel
Victoria, British Columbia

PS: If you’d like to receive these monthly letters via email, please subscribe via that little box on the right side of the page.

*

UPDATE: I recently read my horoscope on the wall of a cafe. It related to my decision to lay off the gas, so to speak, of cyber participation.

Travelling the world for a year. That must be expensive, right?

Well yes, and no.

For many folks, long-term world travel is a pipe dream. It’s something to ‘get to’ eventually, perhaps after retirement or when a figurative ship comes rolling in. There are most definitely valid barriers preventing a person from engaging in long-term international travel: personal health, family health, nationality, professional commitments, debt, money and more. The only non-valid response, as far as I’m concerned, is fear. But this blog post is not about quelling fear. If you need help, go talk to Oprah.

I’m here to talk about money.  Does it need to be such a barrier?

Money is a touchy topic. Most people are terribly polite when it comes to the subject, often not wanting to offend others by posing personal questions. But since I am a mind reader, I know what you’ve been thinking. So I’m going to go ahead and ask the question for you:

“Hey Daniel, how did you afford to do such a trip?”

Well, friends, I’ve never been rich. My parents had meager schoolteacher salaries. I did not invent Facebook. I failed to find a pot of gold, even after bounding and gagging a Leprechaun. (But that’s a different story!) My journey across the world – to twelve different countries on six different continents – was self-funded (apart from reader gifts).

For the sake of sharing, and hopefully to provide a bit of food for thought, I want to unpack the main costs of my journey, explain where the money went, and share the two primary ways in which I funded the journey.

This was the cost, for me, to travel the world for a year…

*          *          *

MAIN COSTS

All figures in US Dollars

Flight costs: $7399
Accommodation: $2431
Reciprocity Donations: $904
Entry/Exit fees (Visas, etc.): $264
Health Insurance: $471
Membership fees: $112

Couch Surfing: $25
WWOOF (Central America): $33
HelpX.net: $30
WorkAway.info: $24

Subtotal: $11,281 USD

Approximated extra costs:

Food (when not provided by host organization): $1500
Local transport (taxis, trains, buses, boats): $500
Activities (cultural activities, museums, tours): $350

Approximated extra costs subtotal: $2350 USD

Total (approximated) cost of a year of travel to twelve different countries on six continents:

$13,931 USD

*          *          *

UNPACKING THE NUMBERS ($$$$)

Flight costs: At over 50% of the entire cost of the journey, airfare was by far the biggest expense. My goal, however, was to experience a slice of life on six different continents. And I was willing to pay to achieve this.

I did not buy an around-the-world ticket because many of my destinations and work projects were unconfirmed/undecided before my departure. I opted to maintain greater flexibility, and ended up visiting countries and participating in projects based on the recommendations of people I met on the road. This flexibility came with a price tag. But in the famous words of French songwriter Charles Dumont – “Non, je ne regrette rien.”

Accommodation: The goal was to exchange work for food and accommodation, but some projects were unable to offer housing and the occasional project simply did not workout (read: Morocco or Scotland). I did occasionally pay for accommodation, but the total cost to accommodate myself was minimal compared to renting a flat for a year in any western urban location.

Reciprocity Donations: Some of the work projects requested administrative fees, or had other types of costs to be involved. Attaching cost to volunteerism is certainly fodder for a debate on the true meaning of ‘volunteering’. But I opted for non-absolutism in my travel philosophy. Essentially this meant that I would evaluate the overall learning potential of an experience, and sometimes this meant paying minimal fees to be involved.

Entry/Exit fees: Fairly self-explanatory. Some countries, such as India or Argentina have fees to enter or exit the nation. Fees can vary from one year to another, and often are scaled based upon the traveller’s country of origin (i.e. If you’re from a more developed nation, expect to pay more fees).

Health Insurance: I opted for a Canadian company that provided up to $1 million of coverage. For my one month in New Orleans I had to buy separate (and more expensive) insurance for coverage specifically in the USA (included in the $471 total). When purchasing international travel insurance, my advice is to ensure each country you are visiting is covered. Read the fine print.

Membership Fees: The cost to join certain online networks that match travellers with locals. These fees were DEFINITELY worth it.

*          *          *

HOW I GOT THE MONEY TO MAKE MY DREAM A REALITY

It was not rocket science:

1)  I worked.
2)  I got a line of credit.

Before leaving I read Vagabonding (by Rolf Potts). One of the ‘take-aways’ for me was the concept of earning one’s travels. Essentially Potts states that the journey will be more meaningful if the traveller has worked to save money. After working (and saving) for a few years, I couldn’t agree more.

I had approximately $10,000 USD in savings to start my journey. This might sound like quite the cash wad, and that it might take forever to accumulate. But with a bit of budgeting and some discipline, monthly saving can become second nature.

Here’s what saving $10,000 can look like:

$500/month for 20 months = $10,000

or

$300/month for 36 months = $10,800

or

$200/month for 48 months = $9600

I’m not going to tell you how exactly to budget. There are a million blog posts out there with stellar strategies on how to save money. Go read them.

It would be foolish, however, to believe that $10 000 would be enough money for a year of travel to six different continents. So I went to the bank to request a line of credit. The first bank rejected my request of a $10,000 loan, so I wrote them a mean blog post. The second bank approved my request, and subsequently offered me a $15,000 loan. Rest assured that most banks are happy to have you owe them money. And think of a line of credit more as a student loan. A yearlong international journey is the epitome of education.

Now I’m back home in Canadaland, and have several thousands of dollars of debt to pay off. But this debt doesn’t discourage me. I’ve had student debt before, which I subsequently paid off.

Oh yes, and there’s that other reason why I’m not fazed:

Because I travelled around the world.

*          *          *

IN CONCLUSION

Travel does not have to be financially frightening. A common misconception is that ‘travel’ and ‘work’ are mutually exclusive options. But they’re not. To make my journey economically realistic, I had to think about how I could reduce my costs. I was drawn to a ‘work-exchange’ style of journeying, where I traded a certain amount of hours per day for food and accommodation. If a traveller is willing to work, the duration of the journey can be indefinite.

Here are a few ways to reduce the cost of travel:

- Go to a single continent
- Hitch-hike or rideshare
- Couch-surf
- Work-exchange
- Don’t buy shit

Let’s go back to the start. The big question posed by this blog post was, “How much does it cost for a year of travel?”

My official answer for the record books is this: “Well, it depends on the degree of frugality in which one is willing to travel.”

If a traveller is pennywise and/or willing to focus on one corner of the world, it is possible to be on the road for a longer duration with even less money than I personally spent.

Before I leave you, let me put things into perspective. In 2004, Edmunds.com published a report stating that the average sticker price on a vehicle sold in the United States was $29,746 USD, and nearly ten years later, I’m certain that the figure has increased. I spent approximately $14,000 USD to travel to six different continents for an entire year. With this logic, I could get a new car or I could go around the world… twice. So really, it’s all about priorities.

If you want to make it happen, then make it happen.

You can.

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Please share this blog post with someone in your life who’s dreaming of long-term international travel.

I can be contacted here:

Twitter.com/Daniel_Baylis
Facebook.com/DanielBaylis
dannyboy@danielbaylis.ca

Human rights are a complex subject. They are defined, in a most basic sense, as “inalienable fundamental rights to which a person is inherently entitled simply because she or he is a human being.” Essentially, if you walk upright, and are more evolved than a chimpanzee, then your entitled to these claims.

But it’s not an easy task to outline the nitty gritty details of what exactly we are each permitted to have as humans. Our most ambitious attempt to define basic human rights arose directly after the atrocities of World War II, where as a collective body of humans we kind of dropped the ball on respecting each other. In December of 1948 the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) was created as a list of ‘basic minimums’ in regards to how we ought to treat one another.

Back in 1948, there were forty-eight countries that signed the original declaration, and although it has evolved slightly over the years, the basic tenants remain the same. The UDHR includes thirty articles ranging from various topics such as the right to education, the right to form trade unions, the right participate in government and the right to protection against any discrimination in violation with the Declaration. Article One is perhaps the most famous and well known of all the statements:

“All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.”

(Editorial side note: I have met people, however, who have been less ‘endowed’ with reason than others.)

If you asked me to summarize the rest of the treaty in six words, I would probably cross my arms, tilt my head forward, and say, “You’re kidding, right?” But really, how has time for thirty articles? So I might offer an abridged version to the likes of this: You gotta right to be respected.

In the west we tend to take most of the rights expressed in the treaty as obvious ‘givens’. We would never think twice about most of them. But it’s nice to have a road map in case we ever slip again as a collective body of humans. Remember that event called the holocaust? Does the Rwandan Genocide ring a bell? How about, I don’t know, the way the Israeli government treats the people of Palestine? We still need the UDHR, big time.

But enough downers already. Let’s get back to the task at hand.

Speaking of road maps, the concept of travel is actually why you’ve come to my blog. And lately I’ve been thinking about travel in relation to human rights. Is it a right? Or is travel better defined as a privilege?

It’s a big question. And as the seven billion people of the world become more and more educated via the internet and mobile technologies, the demand for movement across the globe, I predict, is only going to increase.

If we look to the UDHR for some sort of perspective, perhaps of most interesting section is Article Thirteen:

(1)     Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each state.

(2)     Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.

 So according to the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, travel – defined in a most basic way – is indeed a right. Unless you’re female. It only says ‘his’. So ladies, sorry, you’re screwed. But I digress.

Earlier this week, in an attempt to further my thinking around this subject, I decided to posture this debate of ‘right or privilege’ in regards to travel to my Facebook friends. Here were a few of the responses that garnered the most ‘likes’:

“[It’s] both: Everyone should have the right to travel. In my opinion, we are all citizens of the world. However, because of how the system is now, travel is a privilege for those who can afford it.” - Krispahlyn Daria

“I (personally) consider very few things in this world absolute rights. Travelling is most definitely not a right. It’s a privilege. It’s a privilege both in terms of having the means to travel and having the want to travel. We are a rather entitled culture here in North America. Having said all that, while I don’t think travelling is a right, I think it is essential. It helps one question one’s ideas of norms etc. It builds perspective.” - Fareed Ramezani

“Easy. My Grade 9 students study this: Right. “Section 6, Every citizen of Canada has the right to enter, remain in and leave Canada.” Thanks to Trudeau and his Charter.” - Travis Robertson (as quoted from the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms)

“Neither, I’d opt for it being an obligation — but a good one.” - Doug O’Neill

“I think it should be a right to have the political freedom to travel, but logistically it is a privilege…” - Sarah Hamilton

Interestingly, there wasn’t a consensus on the question. Some folks argued strongly on a specific side, some said travel was both right and privilege, some said it was neither.

To be honest, I posed the debate question without having articulated a personal stance on the matter. For me, the difficulty of this discussion revolves around the definition of travel, and the complexities that have been embedded into the concept. In the western world, the construct of ‘travel’ — if it’s not being highly romanticized — is commoditized, packaged and ready to be sold.  When we think about ‘travel’ we might think of the best deal we can get on Expedia. While I will not deny that this is a form of travel, I will also beg that the definition be expanded.

Ultimately I believe that, in it’s most raw sense, travel is an absolute right. I am speaking about the geo-physical movement of people across land. I believe we should have the right to cross borders, to see other territories and to learn about other cultures. The world that I am working towards is one where people have the freedom to drift and to explore, and where mobility is valued more than materialism or nationalism.

I envision a world where travel is a basic human right, and we respect this right because we understand that the byproduct of wandering is an intellectual and spiritual richness that not only benefits the individual, but where we mutually understand that when each of us experiences the minor expansions that come with travel, we collectively profit.

So here’s to an open future, where travel is a right.

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What do you think? Is travel a right or privilege?

There are a million great reasons to travel. But let’s be honest here folks, one of the most popular motives for meandering to a different corner of the planet is to sample the carnal offerings that this big and diverse world has to offer. I’m talking about sex, or, as my father calls it, “boinking”.

Travel and sex go together like trains and tunnels. It’s no wonder that our sexual analytics spike when travelling. When we’re out there on the road, we admit a different kind of energy: our eyes shimmer brighter, our smiles become a bit sunnier and our skin radiates in irresistible ways — Fifty Shades of Let’s Fuck. In fact, many travellers are the physical embodiments of sex.

Bless the traveller’s wind-swept body.

However, when engaged in social or sexual situations, there are behaviors that are beneficial for you, your potential poonj partner and the surrounding setting. If we all respect some simple guidelines, the world becomes a much more agreeable place to be, and we diminish the chances of spoiling a sojourn. So listen up.

Here are some very important sex etiquette tips for travellers.

DO have sex. Because it’s generally a wonderful thing.

DON’T get pregnant or contract an STI (sexually transmitted infection). Nothing ruins a holiday faster than raging case of gonorrhea. And morning sickness will put a damper on your yearlong backpacking adventure.

DO use protection. If you have a problem understanding, see my previous point.

DON’T give up on sex if you don’t have protection. There are still many titillating low-risk activities that can be achieved without a condom. Such as mutual masturbation. That’s hot. Or mammary intercourse (aka the old’ titty-fuck). It’s a great alternative option to vaginal or anal sex. If you’re cravin’ penetration, use fingers instead of a penis. Furthermore, in terms of reducing risk of HIV transmission, oral sex is generally thought to be lower risk than other sex practices. Remember that outercourse can be as adventurous as intercourse. Just get creative, my little horny vagabonds!

DO be prepared. Pack condoms and your preferred lubricant before you travel.  Availabilities of sex-related products vary from nation to nation and from urban locations to rural locations.

DON’T travel without an extra supply of contraceptive pills. Unless you’re a dude. Then you can move on to the next point, especially if you’re Dutch.

DON’T have sex in the hostel dormitory room. Even if I have earplugs to block the noise, I really don’t want to be awoken to the smell of some grubby Dutchman’s spooge. Gross.

DO use a private bathroom if you’re in a hostel situation and are blessed with the opportunity for a quick fuck. But be sure to lock the door. And after you’re finished bumpin-n-grindin, do a swift semen scan before you leave. Mop up muck-puddles with a bit of toilet paper. It’s all about common decency people.

DON’T be too shy or cheap to upgrade to a private room. If you end up with a quality lover, chances are you’ll want multiple rounds of boinking. Plus, with a private room, you’ll get undisturbed morning cuddling time. If you know of better ways to spend money than renting a room for sex and cuddling, feel free to share.

[FUN FACT BREAK] “Sex and Travel” is actually the name of the second album by English 90′s band Right Said Fred. It received absolutely no critical acclaim.

DO be culturally sensitive. In some places, such as United Arab Emirates, even heterosexual public displays of affection are socially unacceptable. Bottle up all the sexual tension, and then release the caged beast in the hotel room. Roar.

DO use discretion when hooking up with people via social networking websites (such as CouchSurfing) or location-based mobile apps (such as Blendr). Always arrange to meet in public spaces. If you feel uncomfortable, act increasingly crazy until you scare the other person away.

DON’T disclose the location of your accommodation (unless you’re bringing someone back to your room). Take a taxi home from any evening activities.

DO eat local. And I’m not talking about food.

DON’T get so drunk or high that you don’t know what you’re doing. You’re not just putting yourself in danger; you’re also creating a really shitty atmosphere for everyone else. So keep it together.

And my final two points…

DON’T have sex because you think you ‘ought’ to have sex while travelling. There should be no pressure. I spent a year travelling and happened to have only two sexual partners. It’s not a competition. There are no quotas to be filled. Just do what feels right for you.

DO be safe. You need to return home in one piece to flaunt your stories to your friends.

Remember that adventure is not just about geographical exploration. Go discover new frontiers: physical and erotic. There are multiple ways in which love and sexuality can be expressed. Have fun. And most importantly, be good to one another.

Got any other guidelines? Leave them in the comment section!

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BONUS SECTION: SEX TOURISM!

I cannot address the subjects of sex and travel without a brief statement on sex tourism. Sex tourism is travel with the specific intent of having sex, and usually involves the commercialization of erotic experiences, including the exchange of money with sex workers. It is said to be a multibillion-dollar industry that supports an international workforce estimated to number in the millions. Southeast Asia and Latin America are prominent locations in the sexpat scene, with Brazil and Thailand receiving special nods. Female sex tourism is often ignored due to the significantly lower rates in comparison to male sex tourism, but is supposedly on the rise (a testament to shifting gender roles).

In theory I am not opposed to the idea of exchanging money for sex. I’m all for two consenting adults self-regulating the way they wish to interact with each other, whether that is an innocent discussion of the weather while standing in a playground or, on the other end of the spectrum, the negotiation of anal fisting in a bondage setting. I wish not to interfere.

The situation of ‘paid sex’ becomes more complex when elements of race, wealth, class, gender and age are incorporated into the equation; the concept of ‘consent’ becomes increasingly blurred. Ultimately, if you’re going to a location to pay for sex, proceed with utmost caution. You might just be perpetuating deeply seeded social inequities.

Most bloggers are curious about/obsessed with their analytics. And I am no exception to this navel-gazing phenomenon. Besides a comment section, blog statistics are the primary determinant of whether a site has social value. Statistical information (such as that provided by Google Analytics) display how many times a blog is being viewed, where the visitors are from, what site referred them, which content is most popular and more.

On my yearlong journey, I did not have a specific objective or strategy to augment my blog statistics, but I was cognizant of who was tuning in and to what content was successful. I wanted to share as much as I could (i.e. photo, video, letters home), but I also wanted it to reach beyond my immediate social circles to people who were also dreaming of travel, adventure or any large scale project.

But the success of my journey had only one criteria: finish alive. I did not have specific expectations of what a statistically successful blog would look like. And, at this point, as I look back, I have a neutral relationship to the numbers. I do not feel specifically proud or ashamed of them. They are what they are. And I’m ready to share.

Going into a blogger’s analytics is like rummaging through his or her underwear drawer. It has been my intention to unveil these numbers for a while, essentially because I appreciate transparency and the spirit of sharing. Perhaps what you see in this post will provide a bit of insight or perspective for those who might want to also broadcast a journey or formative experience. Self-documentation is a great way to increase self-awareness.

Some might be asking, “Aren’t you scared of what people might think?”

And to this I reply, “I’ve already shown my bum on the Internet, what else do I have to hide?”

So without further ado, here’s some

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THE CONVERSATIONALIST STATISTICS
(Numbers are derived from the time period of my yearlong journey: 1 January 2011 – 1 January 2012)

Visits: 73 688
Unique Visitors: 49 060
Pageviews: 130 657
New Visitors: 66.24%

Top Five Countries (by visitor numbers):

5. China
4. Australia
3. United Kingdom
2. Canada
1. USA

Top Five Traffic Sources:

5. Google
4. Reddit
3. Twitter
2. StumbleUpon
1. Facebook

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VIDEOS

Total YouTube Views from videos uploaded during 2011: 68 422

Video was an integral part of my journey. The month before my departure, I made a big commitment that heavily impacted my journey: attempt to record a daily video. I succeed to upload 350 videos onto YouTube during the journey, stepping away from the camera and the computer during the final two weeks.

I am thrilled to have such an archive of videos from my journey, but the commitment did require more time behind the lens and in front of the computer screen than I would have preferred. I don’t anticipate making that decision again in the future.

Here are the five most watched videos of 2011.

#5 [Gear Review: Daniels' Day Bag]I thought it would be helpful to talk about the gear that I had chosen to take with me on the trip. This was my first attempt at a “Gear Review”, and to be honest I had no idea what I was doing, so I winged it. It’s actually not that bad considering that it’s a single shot. For future gear reviews (there are seven in total), I opted to edit and splice together a higher-octane gear review experience. There was an increased silliness as the videos (and year of travel) progressed.

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#4 [Time for a shave!] If I’ve learned anything, it’s that the internet loves a shaving video (my post-trip beard shave video continues to get massive views). After escaping from the raw vegan farm in Costa Rica, I was malnourished but my beard was not. So I took some photos as I shaved, and threw these photos together in a video. My favorite part is the smile at the end.

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#3 [I Went To Huanchaco] If I had to chose one video that I felt most proud of during the year, it would be this one. It came from a weekend trip to the ocean when I was teaching English at an elementary school in Trujillo, Peru. I had no idea how it would come together; I simply documented what I was seeing and feeling. I spent a few hours recording the voice-over and editing, and then found that lovely background music, which really brought everything together. When watching a year later, I see editorial hiccups and things I might have done differently. But the lack of perfection doesn’t really matter to me. It’s amateur, but it’s honest.

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#2 [Naked in Nature] Ha! This is pure search engine exploitation! In Costa Rica I was on a farm nestled in one of the most stunning valleys I’d ever seen. There were a series of waterfalls and streams at the bottom of the valleys, and one of my favorite things to do was steal off for a skinny dipping session. It was a setting I wanted to share. During the edit of this video I hesitated on whether or not I wanted to show my bum on the Internet. Then I punched my modesty in face.

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#1 [How to (not) use a bidet] I still chuckle when I watch this video. My friend Chantal from Montreal had decided to visit Buenos Aires while I was there, and we had a selection of accommodation adventures (i.e. bedbugs). But one of the funniest moments was when she experimented with the hostel bidet. The video was NOT staged. She really is that funny.

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BLOG POSTS

As a writer, the ‘copy’ or ‘text’ on my blog was perhaps the most important element. I attempted to maintain a regular editorial pulse in the form of a weekly “Letter Home“. The intent was to mimic the letter writing techniques of yesteryear, where a trip around the world actually meant true disconnection from family and friends back home. This format proved successful in the sense that it helped maintained discipline knowing that I had a letter “due” each Sunday. It also managed to build a bit of a regular following. I managed to write 50 letters during the year.

Whether this format was compelling would be up to you, the reader. But interestingly the posts that were most successful in terms of sheer numbers were not my cherished letters. As you can see below, they focused on bite-sized wisdom or photography.If I were to document another grand adventure, I would probably focus less on written stories and more on photography (perhaps accompanied with explanatory captions). But then again, like the video content, I’m really happy to have such an archive of letters.

Here are the five most popular blog post on The Conversationalist during 2011.

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#5 [EXCUSE ME, YOU’RE BEING A DOUCHEBAG: 6 TRAVEL NO-NO’S] This post came after the success of some of my other “list-based” posts. But rather than telling people how to travel, I wanted to flip the idea and pose some tips on how to be more respectful. The tone was sassy, but did reflect actual situations I had experienced throughout the journey, such as the over-saturation of reggae music in hostels. *kill me know*

Keep reading my travel no-no’s…

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#4 [LETTER HOME: ALLOW ME TO NARRATE MY TRAVELS THIS WEEK THROUGH A SELECTION OF FINE PHOTOGRAPHY] This post was the only “Letter Home” to crack the coveted Top Five. I think it was successful because it summed my experience as an international traveller with relatively compelling images paired with snappy text. The formula was simple, but it actually took longer to create than my average Letter Home because of the photo editing involved. I’d like to do more storytelling of this nature in the future.

Check out the most popular “Letter Home”…

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#3 [10 PHOTOS OF MODERN, SUSTAINABLE HOMES BUILT IN NEW ORLEANS’ NINTH WARD] In retrospect there are a couple of key reasons why this blogpost was successful. Firstly, because it was posted so early in the year, it had time to accumulate views. Secondly, the content was American-based, and therefore arguably more appealing to the average user of the Internet. Finally, it had a certain “virility” on Reddit, which was one of my main traffic sources. I also think that the pairing of photo and minimal text is what we love the most on the Internet.

See the other New Orleans’ homes…

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#2 [HOW TO MAKE CEVICHE: A LESSON FROM A WISE PERUVIAN WOMAN] If you google “how to make ceviche”, this blogpost might appear on the front page. And I feel proud of that. In Peru I met a wonderful woman named Estella, and she gave me a personal lesson ceviche lesson in her own kitchen. If you’re picturing a lanky, white backpacker and a short middle-aged Peruvian woman in a kitchen, then you’re on the right track. It was one of my favorite experiences throughout the entire year.

Learn how to make ceviche…

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#1 [20 THINGS I LEARNED FROM TRAVEL] On Monday, 20 June 20 2011, three days after I posted these 20 lessons, I decided to tweet the link to the folks over at Lonely Planet. I was fortunate enough to have caught the attention of their social media team, and they retweeted “20 Things I Learned From Travel”. In a matter of hours, I received 4130 pageviews, immediately had 200 new twitter followers and was inundated with new Facebook friend requests. It was the closest to “viral” that I got during my trip.

The post was a travel rendition of another successful post I had written called “20 Things I Learned in my Twenties“, and goes to show that a bit of shared self-reflection can be a valuable thing.

Discover the 20 Things I Learned From Travel…

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In the coming weeks I’m going to share a post about my travel budget: unveiling where my money went throughout the journey, and how much it costed to spend a year travelling the world.

If you have any specific questions about budget, please voice them below in the comments and I’ll incorporate them into my replies.

Thanks.

PS: The lead image is a sign made by my friend Erin for my arrival to Edinburgh.

Hey Good Lookin’!

It’s been a while since I’ve updated ye ol’ travel blog – over four months to be more precise. And some good stuff has been happening. But I’ll explain more about that in a moment.

First let me tell you where I am.

For old time sake, I thought I’d write you from an airplane. “How nouveau!” – you are thinking. I’m currently cruising at 15000 feet in the sky, according to the flight map, directly below is a town called Piney, Manitoba. Outside of my cabin window is a low-lying blanket of snowy clouds, and then a bright wall of interminable blue.  It’s a familiar and emotive setting. I’ll never get over the idea that there are buildings that fly through the sky.

As I sit here, I’ve got one eye looking towards the past and one looking towards the future. But not literally. That sort of physical eye manipulation takes talent that is far beyond my realm. It’s just a silly analogy to help you understand that I’m hangin’ with an old friend called ‘introspection’.

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YYJ à YUL

Over the past four months I’ve been living with my family in the charming coastal Canadian city of Victoria. Despite the pristine setting, I can assure you that it’s been an entirely unglamorous period of family ‘realness’: changing the post-avocado diaper bombs of my nephew and niece, having my mother (on a regular basis) drop hints that she would love for me to shave my furry face and spending most of my days with fatal coffee breath and a blanket over my head in a windowless nook as I attempt to write, write and write some more. Any potential notions of international grandeur were left out in the garage with my possibly bed-bug-infested-backpack. However I wouldn’t change these few months for anything in the world. If one wants to grow a beautiful tree, one must tend to the roots.

Now I’m en route vers Montréal.

Returning to Montreal is a strategic move for a variety of reasons. First and foremost, the community I have been fortunate to form in Montreal is unparalleled to any place on this planet. After sixteen months of absence, I plan to plead for reacceptance into the lives of friends and associates who have been more than generous to cheer my adventures. If you’re picturing Wayne and Garth chanting, “We’re not worthy!” than you’re on the right track. I’m sure I’ll be spending a lot of time on my knees.

Secondly, I’ll be lending a hand to some colleagues as they launch a marketing company with the premise of helping leading brands do ‘good’ and aiding nonprofits become leading brands. The attempt is to identify core values and how these values can be linked to positive and sustained social change. Is it even possible? I’m not saying this will be easy. But I’m excited to be exploring the complexities with folks who have inspired me in the past. You’ll want to stay tuned, but in the meantime, you can check out the company here: www.naisgood.com.

And finally, I’m heading back to Montreal because it’s Canada’s coolest city – a gritty mixture of bohemians, foodies, fashionistas and people with politics. I used to get paid to sing the praises of Montreal. But trust me, nobody’s paying me to say it now.

It’s just something I believe.

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THE LAST TIME

When I left you last I was in Adelaide, Australia, and I had reached a point where, for the sake of closing off the journey in a personal and meaningful manner, I decided to step away from the blog and all social media platforms. Essentially I pulled the plug and turned the lens inward, transferring from a broadcast-heavy operational mode to a form of reflection and introspection. These final two weeks were difficult in some regards, but satisfying in others. I went on a personal journey, both geographically and intra-personally, and reached a point where I was truly ready to conclude my yearlong journeying. The final leg of my journey was not unveiled here on The Conversationalist, but it will be shared soon. I promise.

Upon my return to Canadaland, part of the reason I opted to stay with family was to have a more socially isolated setting where I could focus on the somewhat arduous process of composing a travel memoir based on the twelve-month expedition. And I’m excited to announce that the literary journey has begun – I’ve drafted the first nine parts of the twelve-chapter manuscript.

So that’s something.

But trust me, there shall be no self-administered pats on the back quite yet. These are nine chapters that still resemble amorphous blobs of wordy marble rather than finely carved statues of literary genius. There is much work still to be done to tighten, to cut, to shine, to polish, to massacre and any other fancy verb that helps illuminate the editing process. To my advantage, however, I am armed with a slightly thick skin and a burning desire to get a more cohesive and personal version of my adventure into your palms.

You can expect classic storytelling with a bit of humor and introspection weaved into the mix. The book will feature plenty of anecdotes and tales that did not make it into my Letters Home, and that were not captured in photo or video. It will also include the events of the final two weeks of my journey.

The writing of this book, in many regards, is my newest adventure.

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THE BIG QUESTION

“So how does it feel to be back?”

This is an innocent inquiry that got lobbed in my direction countless times upon returning to family and friends. My best response probably would have been a nonverbal communication in the form of interpretive dance, followed by a selection of high-pitched bellows that would reference an audio mash-up an orgasm and a stray dog being hit by a steamroller. But for the sake of social normativity, I offered up my best verbal sentiments and responded in a sort of autopilot mode.

“Yeah, it’s good to be back. It’s really lovely to see family and friends again.”

It was impossible for me to formulate a more articulate response to the hodgepodge of post-journey emotions that were running from my heart to my head like one of those ‘Strongest Man in the World’ circus contests where a sledgehammer is hurdled at a vertical light-bulb scale. There was a lot of internal ding-a-ling.

But four mouths later, there has been enough time to permit the adventure dust to gather into a more manageable dust monsters in my brain. It might be another decade or more before I fully understand the impact of my travels, but I am starting to see the repercussions of travel. Last week I saw a poster that said “Tango Night” on the door a downtown Victoria bar, my mind wandered back to the sound of fifty couples shuffling across the floor of a gazebo in Buenos Aires. When I met and conversed with my mother’s neighbor, a smiley woman from India, I suddenly found my cranium dancing in the traditional social head bobble. There is never an instance when I pick up a package of goat cheese at the grocer and don’t wonder if it will be as fresh and delectable as the labneh from the goat farm in Galilee. There are a thousand new things that trigger memories of taste and smell, of sight and sound.

I can say honestly now, after four months of non-travel, that it feels truly wonderful to be back in my homeland. I am relishing the time with family and friends, and appreciating a consistent schedule and the familiarity of a more compartmentalized lifestyle. The discombobulation of travel and its subsequent emotional complexities of goodbyes and hellos have been quelled through rest and time.

So if you bump into me on the streets of Montreal (or if we crossed paths on the information super highway), feel free to pose whatever questions you’d like.

But I’m not promising I won’t break into a mind-blowing interpretive dance performance.

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So grab a bucket of popcorn and get inspired!

You think a film is missing? Leave a comment…

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INTO THE WILD

After graduating from Emory University, top student and athlete Christopher McCandless abandons his possessions, gives his entire $24,000 savings account to charity and hitchhikes to Alaska to live in the wilderness. Along the way, Christopher encounters a series of characters that shape his life.

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LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE

A family determined to get their young daughter into the finals of a beauty pageant take a cross-country trip in their VW bus.

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LOST IN TRANSLATION

A movie star with a sense of emptiness, and a neglected newlywed meet up as strangers in Tokyo, Japan and form an unlikely bond.

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EAT. PRAY. LOVE.

A married woman realizes how unhappy her marriage really is, and that her life needs to go in a different direction. After a painful divorce, she takes off on a round-the-world journey to “find herself”.

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THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES

The dramatization of a motorcycle road trip Che Guevara went on in his youth that showed him his life’s calling.

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PARIS, JE T’AIME

Through the neighborhoods of Paris, love is veiled, revealed, imitated, sucked dry, reinvented and awakened.

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THE DARJEELING LIMITED

Three American brothers who have not spoken to each other in a year set off on a train voyage across India with a plan to find themselves and bond with each other — to become brothers again like they used to be. Their “spiritual quest”, however, veers rapidly off-course…

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BEFORE SUNRISE

A young man and woman meet on a train in Europe, and wind up spending one romantic evening together in Vienna. Unfortunately, both know that this will probably be their only night together.

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BARAKA

A movie with no conventional plot: merely a collection of expertly photographed scenes. Subject matter has a highly environmental theme.

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AUNTIE MAME

An orphan goes to live with his free-spirited aunt. Conflict ensues when the executor of his father’s estate objects to the aunt’s lifestyle.

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[Thanks to www.imdb.com for the brief movie summaries!]