January, 2010


16
Jan 10

T-Mobile + Blackberry + Google Voice = instant win

There’s no doubt that I love my Blackberry and am a Blackberry ninja. It’s welded to my hip. I take photos, I can blog, I can ignore phone calls and most importantly, send inebriated texts and emails.

But when it comes to travel, the Blackberry is what keeps me in touch with the world while I’m abroad and I don’t miss a beat. When I did my Trans-Siberian trip, I was emailing photos and chatting up a storm while gone, even in Mongolia.

I currently own a Blackberry 9700, and it’s by far the greatest travel tool I have. Here’s why:

  • UMA. I can piggyback off a WiFi hotspot anywhere in the world and have my local number work on my Blackberry. What’s cool is that I can call home via WiFi and say hello from wherever. And send offensive texts. Sorry.
  • GPS. I don’t need mapoverlays, just a map and a bearing.
  • Camera phone: Tweeting from the road.

T-Mobile offers unlimited international email for Blackberry users for $20/mo, which can be turned on/turned off whenever and it’s pro-rated, so for Italy – 10 days = $7. Not too shabby.

The only real downside is that GSM will get you when you have your phone on while abroad. Send a call to voice mail? That’s a minute’s roaming charge. While in Russia, $5/min means I’m not answering the phone. The novelty when I first started traveling was fun – “Hi Mom, I’m in Australia – what’s up?” When friends would call, our conversations would go like this.

“Hey Nick! How are you? Do you want to go do *whatever* tonight?”
“Dude I’m in Germany. I can’t.”
“How is it?
“A buck a minute for roaming charges.”
“What’s the weather like?”
“A BUCK A MINUTE FOR ROAMING CHARGES.”
“How hot are the girls?”
“You motherfucker.”

It should be also noted that if you have unlimited texting on your account, you can receive texts for free. Win.

Since Google acquired Grandcentral, it’s been integrated into how I use it when I travel. In order to be a cheapass and yet still be available in case of family emergencies, I forward all calls to my Google Voice number – avoiding GSM roaming charges. Google Voice takes the voicemail, spits out SMS notification and transcribes the voice mail. It does a horrible job of it, but hey, whatever. If Mom calls and GV transcribes the word “dead”, then I’m going to be like “holy shit” and call home immediately. But if it’s just “hey what’s up”, then I’ll wait until I’m under WiFi coverage and then call back whenever.

Google Voice SMS wins too. While abroad and meeting people, SMS is way easier to coordinate where people are and when to get together. But when it costs 35 cents to send a message and my propensity to be verbose and text like a teenager, I’d get a $50 bill just from texting while abroad. Crap. So – the plan is to use my GV number for texting, and use the SMS to Email function with Google Voice. Since I’ve got unlimited international email, why not just reply with to the SMS via email?

It should also be noted that international roaming of data is expensive, and there are horror stories about people who have phone bills in the 4 to 5 figure range when they come back from abroad. Triple check that before you go. And anecdotally, the internet has said that if you use programs on your blackberry that pull data (like Google Maps), you don’t get charged if you have T-Mobile’s unlimited international email turned on. However, don’t try and test that out and datawhore and come back home to find out that your phone cost you serious cash.


15
Jan 10

The week’s roundup

I’ve had a rough week. I haven’t been able to sleep well, focus, concentrate or anything that resembles being productive. The allergies are in full force and the serotonin levels keep roller coastering. Love it.

A few things:
One, I should probably tell my mom that I’m going to Italy. Even though I’m in my 30′s and have been to 40 something countries solo, she’s still worried I’ll get mugged and/or raped. And if I don’t tell her, she grounds me. And if I meet a nice girl, she’ll be like “Hey, it’s 10pm, wtf?” “Sorry, I’m grounded.” :(

Two, I blog occasionally about the Chicago Red Stars, the Women’s Pro Soccer team in Chicago over at Chicago Now. It’s awesome, and I have to refrain from being a sexist pig, which is sometimes difficult.

Three, I still feel sort of bummed about the loss of Marsha, our family’s chihuahua. She passed on at the age of 16 but was closer to me than most of my family. Dogs, in most cases, are more loyal than people. Plus on cold winter nights she would look at you with this sense of blame like it was my fault that it was cold out. Made me laugh.

This summer there’s TBEX: The Travel Blog Exchange. I’m on the fence about attending, because I’m pretty sure that a) I will get stabbed by someone whose e-feelings I hurt, b) it’ll be a weekend of some awesome Fire road trip. And c) I don’t play well with others. I write a travel blog because it’s fun, and have never tried to make any money off this. Most travel bloggers are trying to position themselves as digital nomads – which generally have them end up as nomadic hucksters, selling e-books on how to pick up women or how to travel or SEO: search engine optimization. Fuck that.

A week to go before I leave for Italy. My upgrades haven’t cleared, and I sort of got crap seats on the flights over. It looks like I’ll be ODing on Ambien to make it through.


12
Jan 10

How to write 80 postcards like you care: A Hawkins travel tip

Since I really started writing postcards in 2004, I figure I’ve sent close to 2000 of them back to the US. Yes, 2000 of them. That’s a lot of postcards, and I’ve discovered some excellent techniques to make this a less tedious process. And in the spirit of a kinder, gentler Nick in 2010, I’d figure I’d share my wealth of knowledge.

The list started out as a postcard to Mom and Gran, then just spun out of control. I sent out 72 postcards while in Singapore/Malaysia – 72 postcards! I sent around 100 when I did my Trans-Siberian trip – basically, the aim is 10 postcards a day for when I’m in a particular place. For my upcoming Rome trip, I’m going to be lazy and try to limit it to about 60 or so just because I’m a cheapass. Hey, you drop $500 on postcards and stamps in a year only to be told two months later “Hey, thanks from your postcard from Oogaboogaland, the kids threw it away after reading it.” Love it.

The problem is that with so many postcards and so few days, it’s hard to retell the day’s events in such a way 10+ times that it all sounds fresh and entertaining – like you wrote a card just for that person. It’s really hard. The best way is to write a postcard once or twice, and then copy it on subsequent cards. However, your ingenuity is foiled if two people that know each other get the same card! So, it’s time to develop a postcard strategy!

Step One: Organize your postcard list into groups.
I’ve got about a half a dozen groups: Family, People from my hometown, Friends, People who pretend to be my friends, Internet fan club, Soccer people, “The Writer Posse,” Internet creeps and stalkers, Women I’d like to sleep with, etc. For this example, they’re broken up into groups labeled A, B, C, D…

Step Two: Break ‘em up into groups of 10.
This is where it gets difficult. Take one from A, B, C, D in a random way in such that A1, B1, C1, D1, etc do not know each other. So my mom can get the postcard that my friend Tim gets, who can get the same postcard as random soccer friend #1 gets, etc. Repeat this process until you have nice groups of 10 or so for each day’s worth of activities. Limit yourself to 10 because writing postcards sucks.

Step Three: Address the postcards
This sucks, but address the postcards with the same color ink pen that you plan to write with (basic black = awesome.) After you’re done, reward yourself with a beer. You’ve earned it.

Step Four: Put stamps and air mail labels on the postcard before you start writing them.
Putting them on before you mail out the postcard is important because you know exactly how much space you have to write something witty and awesome. I have been foiled on various adventures by writing something so amazing that it would give you priapism – only to have important words covered up by additional postage!

Step Five: Divide the postcard list in half.
Why in half? What’s with all this math?

Because you’re going to write two different postcards with the same day’s events. For example, I like to write a boring one (“I did this, saw that…”) and an exciting one (“I did this, and made an ass out of myself by doing whatever…”). Make sure you send the postcards to the correct people. For example, Gran should never get the postcard you send to your best drunken friends at home, because, let’s face it – donkey shows and grandparents don’t mix. After you write the boring card, copy the text of the boring card to the other four in the “boring group.” By this time, your hand should cramp up because you’re not used to writing anymore – just typing. Reward yourself for 5 well-written postcards by having another beer. By this time, you should be loosened up enough to write the “awesome” postcard – and just like always, repeat the process for the other 4 cards and reward yourself with a beer.

FYI: It is not ok to lie in postcards, although it’s perfectly acceptable to exaggerate completely.

After this step is done, you should have 10 written postcards! Woo hoo! You did it! Reward yourself with another beer.

Step Six: Repeat this process for each day you feel like writing postcards.
Why hurry yourself? You’ve got stuff to do!

Step Seven: Always send yourself a postcard.
Why send yourself a postcard – I mean, you’re the one that went there! Exactly. What I’ve learned is that no one tells you that they received your postcard. If you get 5% of people saying thank you, then you’re a lucky person. They will only tell you when they didn’t get one. For example, I sent a boatload of postcards from Brazil and Tanzania – only to have them not arrive in the States. So, I look like an asshole as a result. Thanks guys!

When you send a postcard to yourself, not only do you get a sweet souvenir you can hang at the office, but can tell people with great confidence that they should chill – their postcard is coming in the mail.

Optional Step Eight: If you really care enough, you can pull the few postcards aside that you’ll actually put original thought into writing, and write them separately.
Want to write a sappy romantic postcard to the person you’re dating? Want to write a drunken, sappy romantic postcard to someone you’re not dating as a way of saying “Hi, how’s your boring marriage going?” Drink after each postcard. Honest, your writing improves.

There you have it – amazing tips to becoming not only a travel rockstar, but a postcard rockstar.


10
Jan 10

To See The Pope…

Well, I leave for Italy in two weeks. In fact, 2 weeks from RIGHT NOW I hope to be on the Adriatic Sea with a cocktail in one hand and my Blackberry in the other.

Some random notes:
1) Trenitalia won’t accept US credit cards, so there’s no sense in trying to buy Italian Rail tickets before getting there. Jerks.
2) I’ll not only get to spend time in lovely Rome, but I’m going to be spending a bit of time in Rimini. It’s not a normal tourist place for Americans to visit, but hey, it sounds cool enough.
3) Two countries out of the Tiny Ten: The Vatican and San Marino. Start with the easy ones.
4) For the passport stamp collectors, The Vatican does not have border controls, and thus, no passport stamps. So how do you mark going to The Vatican? Buy a postage stamp and put it in your passport. Why not? San Marino does do passport stamps, and I’ll have more details on that later.
5) I’m going for a famous writer’s birthday – I crashed his birthday two years ago in Istanbul and despite that, I got invited back. The best part of travel is meeting the odd and interesting.


7
Jan 10

Meditations on an aisle seat

I haven’t been on a plane on almost 4 weeks, and I can’t say I don’t miss it. With the pantybomber, the Newark airport shutdown and other holiday screwups, the last place I want to be is at O’Hare.

On airplane terrorism: It’s at the point where our intelligence agencies couldn’t find a couch in the living room. So, what are they to do? Kneejerk reactions, like full body scanners that raise more “civil liberties” discussions but yet fail to correct the problem of failure to identify those who are concealing explosives.

On travel bloggers: I’ve been reading a lot of travel bloggers, and for the most part, they’re horrible. Some of the “leading” travel bloggers write so poorly that my eyes bleed from the poor grammar and misspellings. What’s worse is that most of it is PR fluff repackaged as a travelblog. Here’s a hint: I’ll believe it’s not fluff if you don’t use the hotel/resort/plane’s PR photos.

There also seems to be two types of bloggers who I secretly chuckle at. The first is the obnoxious, self-important, travel industry worker who couldn’t be less funny than a tour guide at Auschwitz. That’s right, laugh at your customers and mock them. Regale them of your tales of passengers that do “newbie” things in the air. Way to endear yourself to readers who set foot on a plane a few times a year, if that. If anything, you’re reinforcing negative stereotypes of your profession and what sort of people it attracts.

The second are the ones I laugh at: the younger travel bloggers, who, after an internship in cubicleland, decide “it’s not for them” because they’ve “had enough of the corporate world” and decide to venture out on their own. But in order to afford their travel, they essentially play corporate startup. It’s like with Michael Moore, decrying capitalism but at the same time, being a capitalist movie producer.

There’s very few talented bloggers who are out there, and even fewer who have a day job and yet travel. That’s my little niche – not being a consultant, still mile-whoring and yet watching our 401k for the day we can possibly retire. Not that I ever plan on seeing it, though. I figure I’ve got 40 years left in the workforce, and by that time a MI will probably kill me at my desk, thereby terrifying my place of employment and leading to a cursed desk – possibly the greatest legacy I can leave.

Let’s take a deep breath and pull our heads out of our asses and realize that we’re all in this together. Help a fellow traveler out if you can.

On lifetime miles: I hit the 2 million lifetime mile mark on American Airlines. I guess that’s something to be excited about. That’s about 800,000 airline miles flown since 2003 and 45ish countries. Despite what Clooney showed in his movie, the airline doesn’t give a crap about you. Honestly. You’re just a number. What did I get? 4 International upgrades I can’t really use, a new airline card that impresses no one, and some luggage tags, which impress no one. It’s not as if I’ll get better service from airline staff, because I’m this goofy-looking guy with a big camera bag and thus, am told to get back to economy class or the longer checkin line, albeit in a polite manner.

It’s a weird evolution. I started out not knowing anything about flying, to getting to pick “my” seat in economy, eventually staking my claim on the emergency exit row. Then the unlimited domestic upgrades came, putting me in First class. I went from “Holy shit, I’m in First Class!” to “How come no one talks up here?” to “How come people act like dicks up here?” to “I hope I can get some orange juice and read.” Travel bloggers LOVE to discuss how much better it is, with the complimentary alcohol and food. Honestly, outside of the occasional binge drinking fest (like when I almost drank the cabin clean on a trip to Philadelphia when I was getting dumped by the infamous Philly Girl), I could care less. It feels so empty in those leather seats.


1
Jan 10

The Hole in the Front Door story

Generally odd things happen in my life, and all 3 of my blog readers sometimes near to hear about it as a reminder as to “it could always be worse.”

For those who don’t know, I live in a highrise along the “Magnificent Mile” in Chicago. It’s a safe building, and despite being here for only like 9 years, I know half the people on the floor. And I don’t know them that well – you give them nicknames, like Jerry the cyclist and “the hot Asian chick who lives at the other end of the hall.” So for what I pay to live here, I get stability and normalcy.

On Sunday the 20th, I went to MoHub’s to go watch the Chicago Bears lose. I had 3 pints of beer in 4 hours (and a shot of Jameson because some guy bought) so I wasn’t lit or tipsy. I get home, and unlock the door. The door doesn’t move. I try again. Door still doesn’t move. I glance up and make sure I’m at the right unit number (because that sometimes happens.) I give up and go down to the front desk and say “Hi, I’m a moron, and I can’t get in.” I got laughed at since we have a good relationship and one of them came up and couldn’t get in either. “Time to call a locksmith.” Fuck.

So I pull out the Blackberry, call for a locksmith and chill in the lobby until he shows up. I’m thinking – Sunday night, I could use a good night’s sleep before work in the morning and here I am dealing with this crap. So the locksmith shows up, and he’s like “WTF?” too. The thought is that the lock’s internal mechanism broke, so you could unlock the door but it still remains locked, thus I can’t get in. One destroyed lock later, and we still can’t get in.

At this point, my neighbor Al, who’s in his 70′s comes out on, looks at me and the locksmith and goes “you look like you need a beer” and disappears and comes back with a can of Budweiser. Love it.

At this point after an hour or so, the locksmith thinks the only way we can get in is to drill a hole under the lock. He drills an inch diameter hole, sticks his flashlight in and goes “WTF?” It turns out that the closet door in the entry hallway came off the tracks, and fell down and wedged itself between the frame of the closet and the door, effectively closing the door. I dropped the word “fuck” with pretty good repetition, and without a clue as to what to do, we both decided that we’d enlarge the hole so I could stick my hand and forearm through the door in order to lift up the closet door and dislodge it. Hell, there’s already a hole in it, so what’s a bigger one?

After another hour, we get the hole big enough for my longshoreman-sized forearm (go ahead with the masturbation jokes) to go through and I pryed the closet door up off the door, bloodying my forearm (again, go ahead with the masturbation jokes) but I could finally get into my fucking place! Woo hoo!

So after I get in, move the fallen closet door to somewhere safer where I won’t end up locking myself out again, he’s like “So, it’ll be $302.” Fucksocks. So while he runs to drop his tools off at his truck, I go to the ATM, pull out the cash, and pay him off.

I get back to the bachelor pad, which now has a softball-sized hole in it (16″ Chicago style, not 12″ normal) with no lock but isntead, just a deadbolt to secure the door. I clean up the rather sizeable mess, and begin to take photos for my landlady and insurance people – and, who am I kidding, all 3 of my blog readers so you can mock me. And feeling rather ghetto, I decided to tape up the hole in the door with a folded cardboard box from Amazon and duct tape because I’m all classy like that.

I popped a xanax because I deserved one, and then sat down at my computer and started to write the email to my landlady with the “you’ll never guess what happened to me.” I felt like a first rate dipshit because two weeks prior, my landlady emails me out of the blue and goes “you know, you’ve been a great tenant, so I’m refunding you your security deposit.” Score. So now only do I have my security deposit, I’m writing her a note that basically says due to a colossal clusterfuck, your MagMile highrise rental unit has no lock, a bigass hole in it, and you’re going to be getting some bills that you didn’t anticipate – Merry Christmas!

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