Showing posts with label stereotype. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stereotype. Show all posts

The Go Girl's Guide to Hosteling Europe

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By Megan

Who to Expect:
When hosteling (the act of choosing to stay in hostels) in Europe, one might expect to meet a selection of the following characters:
  • The guy that's been solo packbacking for 5 months
  • The chick in work boots ready to pierce your ear and kickass
  • A father with his kids on holiday
  • A Cali-girl ready romance novels on her bunk
Many have been traveling for months, or are just on a weekend vacation.  All of them have a story to tell and a secret of the city that you might miss without their help.  Because of tips (good and umm, interesting) from new friends in hostels, I have experienced cities in totally interesting ways.


You shouldn't expect to find many hosteling hippos...
How to find the style of hostel that suits you:
There are several types of hostel ready to serve each traveler and her every whim:
  • The Party Hostel- bar in the basement, beer chugging contests abound; not the best place to stay if you want to sleep, but fun for some
  • Granola Hostel- sometimes difficult to find, they make their own granola ie. best breakfast ever, might have a composting potty, and are generally green folk friendly
  • Multi-generational hostel- you might hear a baby crying in the room over, or meet a grandmother on holiday with her daughters; these hostels are often older establishments with little frills, but they sure do the job
  • Really cheap and super basic- don't expect a towel, breakfast or a locker; but they might offer 24-hour check in or a great location in the center of the city

You might meet this kid (Photo of the Ossuary in Kutna Hora
You might even meet this kid (In the Ossuary of Kutná Hora)
Things one needs to know:
  1. How to get there?
  2. How accessible is local the transportation?
  3. Do they supply sheets for the bunk (also, expect a bunk bed unless you specify otherwise and there are other accommodations available)
  4. Is there a curfew?  Most hostels do not have a curfew, but it is important to check the rules so you don't get locked out on your way from the airport/club/or getting lost.
  5. Is breakfast included?
  6. Are there lockers with lock supplied?
Bring with you:
  • Soap and a towel
  • Snacks in case the breakfast is not so yummy
  • Padlock/other security for your belongings
  • Journal to write about the interesting roomies
  • Ipod or ear plugs- there is always, 100% of the time a snorer, night terror sufferer, or the general squeaky bunk to keep you from your much deserved rest
  • Eye mask if you are light sensitive
  • Sense of humor- essential to maintaining patience
  • Sense of awareness- it may be easy to feel comfortable, but one should always be on her guard to protect herself and her belongings

Our hostel in Vienna... okay, maybe not.
Our hostel in Vienna... okay, maybe not.
My top three favorites:
  • Berlin- Jetpak Eco Lodge- So it might be a bit out of the way, but the scenic walk through the Grunewald Forest, relaxed eco-friendly environment, and big (clean) dorm rooms were such a welcome surprise.  A flashlight might be helpful on the walk through the forest if you get there in the dark.
  • Prague- Sir Toby's- I don't know if it was the delicious breakfast, wonderfully interesting fellow travelers, or availability of spaces ready to fit everyone's needs (ie. a bar, kitchen, game room, computers, bbq space, etc.), but it was surely one of the most fun spaces I stayed in.  Definitely for the hostel-er who is looking for that 'true', student experience
  • NYC- ZIP112- Female only, wonderfully accommodating host, back to the basics hostel.  It was simple, super clean, quiet, safe, and tiny- only ten beds.  Located in Brooklyn's Williamsburg neighborhood and ready for female travelers just looking for the basics.

She's with Me

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By AJ
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Two girls and a guy walk into a bar.  The bartender proceeds to mack on the women while a crowd of inebriated, touchy men fall over themselves to introduce themselves as intimately as possible in the cramped space.  As the two girls try to make themselves as small as possible, their male friend puts his arms around both of them, and loudly orders drinks for himself and "both his women" as the crowd begins to back off.

This story is entirely made up, but it's no joke.  I could easily have encountered such a situation while I was in South Africa, out with other volunteers.  And in certain contexts, I definitely would have had the same instinct as the guy in the story.    Now, we may all agree that the situation the girls were in was definitely not a good one.  But the reaction of the guy may have left you upset.  How did his friends become "his women"?  If he's trying to help them fight the patriarchy, why is he playing into it?
If you're a regular reader of this blog, odds are you may be an independent minded woman who enjoys traveling the world.  I don't think it's controversial to say that traveling alone as a woman can be more dangerous than with companions.  And as much you may hate to admit it, traveling with male companions can make much of the world a lot safer.  (Of course, traveling with a local is probably the safest and best way to see a country, but that's another issue altogether.) As travelers, male or female, we find ourselves in unfamiliar places and often can use an ally.  How does one go about being an ally?  From my experience, it's not always black and white.  Sometimes, a person in distress just wants to get through the situation as quickly as possible and get some sympathy afterwards. Sometimes, a little humor can go a long way to diffuse a situation. Sometimes, a person can be in danger of harm unless an ally sticks their neck out.

Following are some stories from my own experiences.  Some names have been changed to preserve privacy.  I'm not claiming these were the right or wrong ways to react. But I hope that you'll read through and leave a response.

American Woman
In South Africa, Peace Corps Volunteers would often converge in our “shopping towns,” the nearest urban centers where we could get groceries and basic goods.  The usual means of transportation to and from these towns involved the public taxi system.  Mini-bus taxis, small SUVs with extra seats added in, and covered pickups with benches in the back, were all fairly common where I was.  More often than not, these do not run on any kind of schedule. They leave when they are full. This means two things for the traveler: You've got some time to kill and enjoy the circulation in your legs while you still have it. The waiting game sometimes starts earlier, as you wait for one of these taxis to fill and arrive from their first stop.  So we spent a lot of time sitting around taxi ranks.

"taxi
An example of a taxi rank [Photo courtesy of Wikipedia
After a full day of grocery shopping and errands, Amy, Melody, Katie, and I were sitting on a bench waiting for our rides to come in.  While we chatted, two men approached.  I quickly made eye contact and we exchanged greetings.

“My brother, you have so many women. You must share some with us.”

“Trust me my friend, you don't want these women. They are American women. They are strong headed and they won't cook.”

“But why do you have so many?”

“These women are my sisters. So believe me, I know them well.”

Now, I'm pretty sure the didn't buy the claim that the Indian guy was the brother of these three white women, but they didn't push things any further. We joked for a little while longer, with Amy asserting vigorously that an American woman was definitely not what they were looking for.  Eventually, the guys left.

Strong Arming
Unfortunately, some guys skip the whole small talk bit and go straight to the groping.  In these cases, humor is less useful.

Katie and I were traveling to a meeting in Pretoria and had the distinguished pleasure of sitting in the far back corner.  Between us and our two other row mates, it was a tight squeeze, but at least Katie had managed to grab the window.  Control of air-flow is something you learn not to take for granted.  As we sat while the bags were being loaded, we had the window wide open, enjoying the morning breeze.  A few yards away, a guy was definitely checking Katie out. She caught view of him out of the corner of her eye and decided to try the “ignore” strategy, staring straight ahead and pretending he didn't exist.  That didn't seem to make much of a difference to this guy, who eventually just walked over and grabbed her through the window. After some yelling and slapping, the window was closed.
Fortunately, we soon got on our way and we slid the window open again.  Within a few minutes though, we pulled into a gas station to fill up.  It was pretty hot.  I could see the conflict on Katie's face as she tried to choose between being able to breathe and being able to relax without watching every man that walked by.  Finally, she settled on the open window but gave death stares to any guy that so much as glanced over.  It's a no win situation, because some guys seem to still see this as an invitation. One started to come over.  This time, I slipped my arm around Katie's shoulder and added my own death stare.  Once he was within a yard, he tried to greet Katie and I greeted him back. (Yes, you must always greet. Even when giving death stares.)  The guy left. The window stayed open but I didn't take my arm away until we were well on the road again.

Talking Back
Shopping and meetings were not the only reasons to go to town. When one of the girls from our group got married in Vryburg, many of us were able to go to town to celebrate.  Before the wedding, we were still busy putting together a gift for our friend and were running all over the town to get different things.  I was in a group with Katie, Aaron, and Alex.  To save time, Aaron wanted to take a short cut through the taxi rank.  Katie was not so enthusiastic.  We figured, there were three guys. No one was going to mess with her and eventually she agreed.  As we went through, we got many looks because: white South Africans almost never go near a taxi rank , it's still a very odd site in smaller towns to see a mixed group of white and Indian people, and one of us was a woman.  Soon, the cat calls started and they were, of course, all directed at Katie. It's degrading and demeaning, but I figured Katie was not in any immediate danger so my strategy was to do nothing and get through as quickly as possible.  Aaron, though, had had enough, turning to one group of guys, waving his arm and yelling, “Voetsek!” Now, the word “Voetsek!” is Afrikaans command usually given to dogs and literally translated means “Foot sack!”. When directed to people, it's more like “Fuck off!”  Coming from a white guy in the middle of a taxi rank though, it was potentially a lot worse than that.  We sped up and quickly got through the rest of the rank.

Chivalry is Dead; Long Live Humanity

In all these situations, there are things all of us could have done differently. There were many situations where I saw getting involved as making things worse, so I tried to get through the situation as quickly as possible and offer a sympathetic acknowledgment that “that sucked”.  The right action is not always clear.  But one thing is clear to me. The motivation for action is not that men must protect the honor and dignity of women.  The motivation is that humans should protect the honor and dignity of humans.  Whenever this principle is followed, I don't think you run the risk of being patronizing.  Sometimes we may play off the ingrained stereotypes, but as long as the baseline respect for each other as equals exists, I don't think it's necessarily out of line.  Allies come in all shapes, forms and colors.  An ally one day will need an ally the next.  I'll always be thankful to Katie for the time where she helped diffuse a situation where I got kicked out of a hotel lobby for being Indian.
Just because the motivation to be an ally derives from a common humanity does not mean that it's ever clear what course of action will most preserve human dignity.  That's where the debate begins.

The Five People You'll Meet in Barcelona

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By Megan


As a high school junior, I  was lucky enough to go on a week long trip to France and Spain to soak up a bit of European culture.  I fell in love with Barcelona and immediately promised myself that I would find a way to live and learn there.  So, my junior year of college, I hopped on a plane and spent a glorious year studying at the Universitat de Barcelona and living in the city.  Granted, a year is only the first course of the city meal, but I got to know the town and people rather well.  Here is a list of the five people I promise that you will meet in Barcelona, even if you are only there for a week.

Backpacks are sure signs of tourists, especially in Spain
1. Tourists- Barcelona is fabled to be the number two tourist destination in Europe, after front runner Paris.  And it is plenty obvious when walking nearly everywhere in the city, especially if Gaudí, Picasso, or Mirò ever touched it.  Look for cameras and the shock on the faces of people whose belongings have recently been nabbed.


Checkout the near mullet encounter I had...
2. The Hair- Okay, well not exactly a person, it really deserves its own category.  Prime example: The Dread-Mullet.  That's right folks.  Everywhere you go, no matter where you are, I promise, it will find you.  Imagine an everyday 'business up front, party in the back' mullet, except in the back are dread locks, and the owner of the do appears to be completely sane.  It isn't just the dreaded mullet, but hair styles in general that make this city so unique.  Example, moi (see the near mullet encounter I had).  Walk into a 'perruqueria' (Catalan for hair salon) and you are in for quite the experience.  Never once did I leave unmarred by the intensity my hair, post-cut.  I don't think I will ever look at a bottle of hair spray the same way again.


Need I say more?
3. Catalan Nationalist- Usually wearing some sort of red or yellow; prefers to communicate only in Catalan; usually sports an above referenced hair-do, a baby dressed in Dior, and/or that certain Mediterranean glow.  They can be found sipping regional wine while engaged in intense political debate over the importance of the region's social, economic, and linguistic independence from Spain.  Catalan's are passionate, full of dreams and ready to talk, especially if you know a few steps of the sardana (the traditional folk dance of Catalunya).  Visca Catalunya Lliure!


Man on Toilet- Photo by Amy John
4. Street Performer- If it is your first time visiting the city or your twentieth, you'll probably want to walk down las Ramblas.  If you walk down las Ramblas, you'll want to hold on to you purse.  While holding on to your purse, you'll probably see this guy (photo by Amy John) among the myriad of statue performers, holding still until some curious kid drops enough euro coins into his basket to cause a reaction.  If it isn't him, it will be the impossibly fat dancing lady, the golden angel, or the biking dude wearing a top hat with a skeleton companion riding along side.

Italians in their natural state
5.Foreign Exchange Student- Another little bird told me that Barcelona was the favorite study abroad capital of Europe, and let's face it- the beach, famous nightlife, and international community sure do add a little something to the classroom experience. Furthermore, each group of students has specific, stereotypical identifiers: Example A- see the Italian students (photo by Amy John), in the photo to the left, with large sunglasses, dark tousled hair, and that 'get-me-a-coffee-asap!' vibe about them.  Germans are also easily spotted by their sheer height and joviality, and Americans look and sound like the crowd after a high school football game.  Beware, they travel in packs and can be spotted a mile a way.
Honestly, there are plenty other characters in Barcelona, but here are the five I promise you'll run into while visiting.  Any other honorable mentions?
Next Week:  We'll leave Catalunya and visit Italy

An Inspirational Refutation of an Uncomfortable Stereotype

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By Lillie
Catch more of her adventures at http://lmarshallworld.blogspot.com


"People try to insult me by saying my success is from a falang (foreigner)," said Nate, smiling as she steered us through the moped-filled traffic, "but it's just me." The story that emerged as Nate (in her taxi-service capacity) drove me from her restaurant to the Phuket bus stop was inspirational. But was also a desperately welcome antidote to the uncomfortable Older-Western-Man-funding-Younger-Thai-Woman situation thick on the island.
Nate grew up in a rural village in the center of Thailand, and had a daughter. "One day I decided I needed to find opportunity," she explained, "so I left my whole family to go to Phuket where you can make a living with tourism. I told no one where I was going."
She got in the first taxi she could find, and the driver asked her, "Where to?" "I don't know," she said, "maybe a job?" "I don't know where there would be a job for you," the driver replied. "Don't you have family here? Friends? Anything?" "I have nothing," replied Nate. "I just want a job."
It was getting dark, so Nate asked the driver to take her to a temple, so she could sleep in the sanctuary. "You can't do that," he said. "You're a woman." At last the driver had an idea. "There is a school being built over there. If you can handle heavy construction, I'll take you there." And he did.
For two years, Nate labored at school construction sites. Water from the ocean seeped through the foundation, and sewage bubbled out of the pipes where the toilets would be. At last, Nate realized that most of her paycheck was being swallowed by food expenses. So she had an idea.
"You're alive?!" cried Nate's family when she called them. "And you're in Phuket?! Why??" Nate explained that she wanted to pool the family's money and start a restaurant on the island. The family agreed, and the restaurant was born.
Success! Nate's natural energy and scrumptious food brought the customers in droves. But the landlord saw the crowds and began raising the rent. "He was jealous," sighed Nate. Within a few years the rent raises forced Nate's business to fold. Again, she had nothing.
And yet, again she rose up. Off to another site, this time Karon beach with it's hearty crowd of falang tourists. Nate 1 opened its doors. Success! Nate's daughter came to help cook and serve before going to school, and ultimately just stayed to work. But the clouds thickened again, and again the rents were raised... and Nate was thrown out.
Heartbroken, to the northern city of Chiang Mai she went, desperately searching for another chance. None could be found, and Nate found herself sleeping outside. "What else could I do?" she sighed. "But you must still visit Chiang Mai yourself. It's beautiful!"
So she went back to Phuket. Gathering forces and resources again, she created "Nate 2". Nate 2! This is where we met Nate, just steps from our hotel. (See the photo of the cheerful tables and succulent coconut pineapple chicken... mmm!)
Speeding from the kitchen to the checkered tables to the taxi, Nate glows! Look at the photo at the start of this article of her and her daughter.

"Who was the German man I saw in the kitchen?" I asked. "Ahhh. People spread rumors about me and him," she said, "but he is a friend, a love. He had moved here ten years ago, and we became friends. I said to him finally one day, 'I am not young or beautiful, and neither are you, but maybe we can join together, and that way we will not be so alone as we grow old.'"
As we neared our destination, I told Nate how much I admired her, and how much I wished her and her enterprises the best.
"You know what I think helped me survive?" she said. "When I was younger, I took classes in art-ing." "Acting?" I said. "No, art-ing. Creating the body with your hands. Art." "Ah!" I said.
"Because I know art-ing," she smiled as she steered into the crowded bus terminal, "I have always been able to see the beauty in the ugliness."


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