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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Dear Family and Friends,

And so I’ve reached an ending of sorts. If our lives are divided into a series of chapters, I have nearly reached the conclusion of one. And what an incredible chapter it has been.

As I type these final words, I’m sitting in a generic café in Adelaide, Australia. Outside the rain is falling in tumultuous buckets. The buzz of the barista machine provides a comforting and familiar soundtrack, and over the speakers pours a calming rendition of Hark! The Herald Angels Sing. The people sip their flat whites and long blacks and cappuccinos, and converse in the beautiful way that human beings do. They look into each other’s faces, attending to words and intonations and eye movements. From what I’ve witnessed, all evidence points to the notion that we are collectively meant for each other. We are social animals.

I am a social animal.

Interestingly, back in the autumn of 2010 when I began to tell family and friends that I had decided to go traveling for a year, most people assumed that I’d be disappearing into the abyss, that I would be jumping ship to sit on the side of a mountain and meditate in solitude. I admit that this type of travel has crossed my mind, but that’s not what I envisioned for 2011. As I mentioned, I am a social animal.

In my head was a trip where inter-connectedness and social media broadcasting and experience sharing would be a fundamental part of the accomplishment. I would indeed be traveling and leaving the comforts of home behind, but the intent was to be very much ‘in touch’ or ‘plugged in’. I wanted to go into the world and share what I discovered. I wanted to bring as many people as possible with me on the journey.

And so I tried.

I set out on the first day of January 2011 for my year of international exploration. I was nervous. I wondered if I was in over my head. On that very first day, I arrived into New Orleans after the sun had set, took a taxi to one of the most dangerous districts in America and I crawled into a somewhat smelly bunk bed, seriously considering calling the whole project off. I had just dismantled a privileged life in Montreal to go chasing after a pipedream. Would this be worth it?

However, something magical yet perhaps conventional happened. I began to meet people. And marvelously a selection of these somewhat minor introductions began to mushroom into significant relationships.  There was Edda the divine Australian and Boris the light-filled Frenchman. Then in Costa Rica I met the world-wise Matt. And in March a middle-aged Peruvian woman named Estela took me under her wing. It would continue over the months with Lucy and Moses and Nico and Erin and Igal and Tulsi and a hundred other names to which I ought to give proper acknowledgement. (But I don’t want to burden you with characters, when it’s time focus on a conclusion.) It turned out the world has been well stocked with beautiful human beings.

And essentially, if I were a ship sailing through the night, these people would be my lighthouses. They have told me that, despite being far from home, I was never alone. They were guiding forces. They were friendly. They were filled with light. But they weren’t the only folks involved in the journey.

There was, of course, you.

Yes, you, the reader of The Conversationalist, have been the wind that has propelled the ship onwards. The hundreds of comments and private messages that you’ve shared over the past twelve months have served as the greatest driving force. You’ve encouraged me to press forward, even when I doubted that I had the emotional endurance to continue. You’ve shared my blog posts, suggested friends to join the journey and even reached into your pockets to help fund the adventure. I approach the ending with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. And I have you to thank.

So let it be shouted from the highest point on the mast: THANK YOU!

I have strived to create an experience that was meaningful for myself, and also meaningful for those who chose to join the journey. So whether you were tuned in from day one or happened to watch an occasional video or have only arrived to my blog for the first time, I am grateful that you are even giving a portion of your time.

It’s been an honor and a privilege.

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Before I formally sign off, I’d like to leave you with a final message. Permit me to share a tentative lesson that I’ve acquired not only from my yearlong journey, but also from my meager thirty-one years on this planet. It is in regards to an emotional element called ‘fear’.

In our culture, we are often sent inspirational messages from various sources. Yoga brands, T-shirt companies and motivational posters tell us to live our lives without fear. It’s as if fear itself has been demonized. It’s as if fear is the enemy.

Yet fear, I believe, is a valuable tool. It tells me whether or not to walk alone at night. It informs me that perhaps I should test the depth of the watering hole before diving in. It tells me that I need to return home and spend time with my family and friends, or the quality of relationships could be compromised. There is an element of fear in all of the decisions I make in my life. And I am learning that an attempt to live a life without fear is futile, if not foolish.

To be honest, one of my greatest fears has been of stagnation. I am aware that life passes quickly, and without direct and intentional intervention there is a chance that I could get stuck in ruts and patterns of blisslessness. I don’t want my heart rate to stop while I am living.  I don’t want to ignore the potential of a person that I know I am capable of becoming. I have somehow become aware that if I do not make purposeful choices for my future, there is a chance that I might not realize my potentials. And with this awareness, fear has impelled me.

In my case, fear was simply a tool to push myself forward towards new adventure, new potential states of being. This year has been a giant risk – I quit a stellar job, moved out of a beautiful rent-controlled apartment and challenged the strength of my closest relationships by being absent for twelve months. There was fear in the thought of leaving. But, then again, there was fear in the thought of staying. And so I acted in a fashion that I thought would keep my heart most alive. I made decisions that I believed might lead to expansion(s).

And here I am, twelve months later, more alive than I’ve ever been. I stand before you as the same ‘Daniel Baylis’ who left on the first of January, but with eyes that have seen a bit of the world, feet that know the sensation of foreign soils and a heart that is a bit swollen with the love of my fellow humans. Expansion has been achieved. And fear helped me get there.

Allow me to conclude with a quote. During my month of May in South Africa, I kept the company of a wonderful man named Nelson Mandela. I wandered through his autobiography with awe and admiration. He is one of the world’s most commendable humans for the perseverance and strength of character he displayed in a system laced with inequity and injustice. The lessons that he extracts from his epic lifespan are psychological gold. One of the phrases that resonated most read: “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.” His sentiment relates directly to my own experience of fear. There is no absence. There is only transcendence.

So I send to you an encouragement to apply the words of Mandela. How can we live our lives with a generous serving of self-defined courage? I suppose that’s up to each of us to individually explore.

But here’s what I’ve told myself over the course of my journey:

Feel the fear. Be brave. Move forward.

And, miraculously, it’s been working.

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I thank you once again for being here with me.

With a full heart,

xoxo

Daniel Baylis
Adelaide, Australia
19 December, 2011

Check out the final seven videos of my yearlong adventure, including my special sign off video where I may or may not have gotten a bit misty-eyed…

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[DECEMBER 11] Edda and I headed over to Cockatoo Island to see installations of urban art. It was lovely. But the fun truly began when we raided a dumpster and illegally climbed a concrete tower.

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[DECEMBER 12] Take a quick tour of Federation Square in Melbourne. I was clearly happy to be there.

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[DECEMBER 13] I followed Matt Purbrick around his family’s 800-acre vineyard called ‘Tahbilk’. It was absolutely stunning.

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[DECEMBER 14] You might remember my friend Matt from Costa Rica. He was the only other volunteer on the raw vegan farm. We’ve reunited in Australia, his home nation, for a delightful feast. And it was certainly NOT raw vegan.

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[DECEMBER 15] Vegemite has been branded as an iconic Australian food. Most of the Aussies that I’ve met have an affinity for the yeasty paste, so I figured it was time for me to dive in…

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[DECEMBER 16] I met up with my friend Bart and we took an elevator to the 88th floor of the Eureka building. It’s the highest viewing point in the southern hemisphere. I nearly shat my pants. But it was fun.

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[DECEMBER 17] I could ride forever…

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[DECEMBER 18] It’s been an incredible journey. Join me in my final video of 2011 as I close off what could be the greatest adventure of my life.

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A selection of imagines from my month following my intuition in Australia…

Click on any photo to make it larger.

Wait, that doesn’t sound right.

Here’s how it works: You pose questions via facebook, twitter, email or in the comments of this blog. I answer them in place that I’ve been sleeping.

It’s interesting. It’s intimate. It’s informative. It’s all Baylis.

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It’s been an incredible journey. Join me in my final video of 2011 as I close off what could be the greatest adventure of my life.

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We had some great questions this month (over 30 of them)! But I only had time for four: Why are you growing your beard? Are you booking flights as you go? Is Laos as wild as it seems? And where will you be in January? Make sure to check out all the extra responses here…

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Food was a question on many people’s mind this month. Check out what I had to say, as well as my version of the India head-nod-bobble…

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The people have spoken, and they wanted to know about goats. Oh yes, and some very other important questions. I answer your questions about my travels in Israel.

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To spice things up a bit, this month I had some of my closest celebrity friends ask me questions about my travels! The results were enlightening.

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Again, y’all were amazing with the questions! But I had to limit it to only five. Do you have all your adventures planned in advance? Is there a difference between France French and Montreal French? Where will you be spending month 13? All this and more in the July edition of Talk Back!

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There were many questions this month! But I could only choose four: How’s the food? Are the Moroccan ghosts benevolent? Is the Marrakesh Express real? What has been you favorite destination thus far? And I answer them all in my desert nomad headdress. Obviously.

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I got all dolled up for this edition of “Talk Back.” Do you feel safe in Cape Town? Is it exotic as you imagined? Are you forced to talk to yourself now that you’re without an iPod? These are the daring questions that I tackle.

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In this month’s edition of “Talk Balk,” I get out of my bed and into my bath to address your questions! Will I be doing extreme sports? Where did the name “Buenos Aires” come from? And more!

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What life lessons have I learned thus far? Is Machu Pichu really THAT amazing? Why are Peruvians so damn sexy? I tackle these questions in my March edition of “Talk Back.”

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In my second installment of “Talk Back,” I answer your questions about veganism, discoveries along the road and how tanned I’m truly becoming…

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Over the past few weeks, I’ve had a few questions posed about my travels. Will my blog include the sexual encounters I experience also? How does New Orleans hold up as an international destination for travellers looking for crazy fun and a unique experience? How much of the city is below the level of the river? I tackle these questions… and more!

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May the adventure never end!

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[DECEMBER 5] In the Dorroughby region of New South Wales lives a fine individual named Virginia. She’s got some cows, and I’d like you to meet them.

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[DECEMBER 6] My favorite Aussie talks about a region of her nation that called her to live there, even before she knew where it was.

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[DECEMBER 7] Friends of the Koala is a non-profit community group run by volunteers dedicated to conserving koalas in the Northern Rivers of New South Wales. Volunteer rehabilitators operate a 24 hour rescue service for sick, injured and orphaned koalas.

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[DECEMBER 8] Edda has a beautiful Barbie scooter. She offered to take me for a ride. But I just stole it and rode off to Canada…

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[DECEMBER 9] Edda and I wanted to send a quick shout-out to all the good folks that we met while volunteering for Common Ground Relief in New Orleans. We love you guys.

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[DECEMBER 10] Spending 57 seconds experiencing a slice of what the Sydney Botanical Gardens have to offer: green spaces, trees, bats and lovers.

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[DECEMBER 11] Edda and I headed over to Cockatoo Island to see installations of urban art. It was lovely. But the fun truly began when we raided a dumpster and illegally climbed a concrete tower.

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Dear family and friends,

Hello my darlings! This week I write you from the bustling city of Sydney, Australia’s national capital biggest city. The region is experiencing unseasonably chilly temperatures, but the people have been nothing but warm and welcoming. So the universe is balanced.

On Friday, my Australian hostess with the most-est (the divine Edda Lampis) and I departed Lismore on a slow moving train. As we were rolling along through the picturesque rolling hills of New South Wales, I had a sudden realization that it was the first time in twelve months that I had taken an extended journey with a companion. It was lovely to have the company of a friend: to share meals and jokes and wrestling sessions, as well as to not worry about my possessions when I went to the bathroom. I love to travel by myself, but I love to travel with friends.

Yesterday I went solo once again, and bummed around Sydney, visiting the Botanical gardens and walking around the harbor. At one point I sat and gazed across the water to the Opera House. Twelve years ago, I visited Australia as a somewhat lost and confused backpacker, and I remember feeling overwhelmed by Sydney. I remember feeling lost and overwhelmed by life.

I had big emotions once more. Maybe that will always be my relationship to the Opera House – it is, after all, an emotive structure. Again I looked at the white-sailed architectural gem through tear-streaked eyes, but the core emotions were not coming from a place of pain or confusion. Instead the sentiments revolved around joy and appreciation and general awe of the world, as well as gratification in my own personal progress.

I’ve come a long way, Baby.

As the end of the year approaches, I am noticing an augmentation in activity in my tear ducts. This is, of course, correlated to the looming conclusion of my journey. I’ve come to a big decision about what I need to conclude this journey. And I think it’s best that you know now. The closure will involve much needed internal work and space to reflect. And to achieve and optimize the potential of this internal work, my intuition tells me that it might be best to step away from the camera and the computer and the Internet. It’s time to wrap it up.

I have now traveled around the world. But the final voyage shall be to the place inside me where all of these incredible experiences rest in a mess of wonderment and overwhelmedness and perplexity and gratitude. It is a space that is terrifying, yet rich in potential.

And so the broadcast portion of this journey will end next week. I’m approximating that December 18th will be my final Letter Home, as well as the concluding video, dernier shared photograph, last tweet and Facebook update finale for the year.

All things end, or at least take different form, and so must this journey.

Rest assured, however, that this is not the termination of my social media presence. I’ll be back in January in various forms. And I’ll be eagerly forming the memoir of my yearlong expedition across the globe.

Thanks for your understanding and continued support.

With love from Sydney,

xoxo

Daniel

PS: This afternoon, Edda and I went to Cockatoo Island to wander through a large-scale installation of urban street art. We found costumes in a dumpster! Check out the video action.

You’re probably wondering how I get such fabulously coiffed locks. My preferred style technique is sticking my head out of a fast moving Thai train. But if that’s not available, I use a tuque.

See this week’s epic four-nation video collage with footage from Laos, Thailand, Malaysia and Australia!

Wowsers!

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[NOVEMBER 28] When I found out that Heather from GingerNomads.com and I were going to cross paths in our travels, I wanted to ensure a meet up. It’s extra special because we’re both from the same hometown of Prince George, Canada!

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[NOVEMBER 29] I’m a pretty easy character to please. So when I found a $20 hotel room just steps from the train station in Nong Khai (Northern Thailand), I was as happy as a pig in shit.

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[NOVEMBER 30] Instead of flying out of Laos, I decided it might be interesting to take a train through Thailand and fly out of Bangkok. Here was the view from my private old captain’s box.

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[DECEMBER 1] I love it when I get to spend a couple hours in a foreign country. Here’s a peek of me in Malaysia!

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[DECEMBER 2] It was great to land in Australia – the promise of koalas and barbies and great barrier reefs. But mostly because it’s home to a beautiful person named Edda.

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[DECEMBER 3] I was lucky to catch some community theatre/acrobatics while in Lismore. Here’s a snapshot of what I saw…

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[DECEMBER 4] Tonight I had the most unique cleansing moment of the trip. It involved a tub, some piping hot water, and an open Australian sky.

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Oh Hiya!

Just a quick note from Oz! I arrived safely on Friday morning after a long red-eye flight from Bangkok, with a transfer through Kuala Lumpur. Quick tip: If you fly with Air Asia, bring your own blanket! Or you’ll be forced to buy one. #MinusPoints

My lovely friend Edda picked me up at the airport and we set off for the town of Lismore, where I’ve spent the weekend. My month in Australia hasn’t been fully formulated yet. But I have some hunches of what I want to do. It might involve me unplugging from the internet for a week or two. Apologies ahead of time!

I’m loving Lismore. It’s got a great sense of community, lovely little markets and an architectural style that reminds me of New Orleans. And Edda’s made it her personal mission to ensure that I experience all that the town has to offer. What a treat!

Thinking of you,

Daniel

PS: I hope I get to see a kangaroo on a bicycle!

PSS: On Saturday morning I awoke to a rat in my bed. No jokes! I’ll tell you all about it sometime…

Woah. It’s December.

This means that I’ve now entered into my twelve-month of traveling, and the last leg of this yearlong adventure. And to be honest, I was intimidated by this month – it would be the end, and because it would be the end, I knew I wanted it to be special.

But how do I finish with a bang?

I contacted a variety of hosts in Australia for ‘work-exchange’ opportunities to explore options to help. I seemed to be arriving at the wrong time of year for the prolific Aussie vineyard harvests. The pearl farm that was suggested to me by Matt (Aussie friend who I met in Costa Rica) was full up on helpers. The kangaroo rehabilitation center did not respond to my inquiries. It was a series of bumping into walls, and I began to see this as a potential message from the universe.

I remembered the advice that my friend Vanessa gave me back in September 2010, when I was cautiously beginning to tell people about the dream trip, and the its ambitious framework – 12 months/12 countries/12 goodwill activities. We were sipping lattes on the terrace of a Montreal café and she said, “Daniel. There might be a moment when you feel a need to abandon everything – the agenda, the audience, the boundaries – follow your intuition on it.”

So I am… sort of.

I’m not ready to abandon the blog or to stop taking photos or to cease from writing my weekly Letter Home (although this month they might become more like postcards). It’s been such a stellar year, and perhaps part of the ‘success’ (if I dare use that word) was because I intentionally directed the journey in a specific fashion. I stuck to the game plan. And I’m glad I did.

But what would happen if I let go of the reigns?

This month, I’m metaphorically throwing the map out the window. But this doesn’t mean that I’ve come to Australia without objects. I am here on a search for something – something that I’m finding difficult to articulate, but I think much of it understandably revolves around finding some sort of closure or ending to a life-altering trip. I’ll be sure to tell you if I find it. Heck, I’ll tell you if I don’t find it.

To begin this final intuitively guided leg, I’ve come to a small town called Lismore, in the northern region of New South Wales. One of the most special people that I’ve met this year was an Australian gem named Madam Edda Lampis. In January, Edda and I shared many weeks together in the slightly odorous but overall delightful dorm room of Common Ground in New Orleans. You might recall that she guided me through a Full-moon Ceremony. Now she’s back in Australia, and my intuition has told me that she might be able to help direct me where I need to go this month.

Wish me luck.

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EXPECTATIONS:

- To finish my journey alive.

(Yup, that’s pretty much it!)

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