Americans travel as infrequently as we do because we’ve been fed a lie that the only way to travel well is to stay in a hotel. Poppycock, I say! Trust the cunty, fussy New Yorker on this: That’s pure bullshit.
There are hostels, ryokans, home stays, riads, capsules, vacation rentals, B&Bs, agriturismos and on and on and on. I’m going to kick out a blog about this, so follow along for that.
For now, here are the basic categories that they fall into. I use all of them at different times for different reasons, so here’s what each is good for. Some of these seem obvious, but I’d bet some will surprise you.
Note that I do not suggest staying with friends or families, which I explain here.
All lodging must fulfill seven basic functions and also play to personal preferences. Let’s unpack what those are so you can cut through the clutter and choose the options that will cause you the least amount of stress and deliver the greatest amount of joy.
Note that this is stacked in the order that I prioritize them. You should take a moment to thoughtfully prioritize them for yourself too. It helps when you’re booking lodging to know what matters to you personally, so you can cut through the marketing and distractions and quickly choose the one that suits you best.
Might I also suggest doing this for dating? But I digress… lodging…
My privacy policy is simple: I don’t share your information.
Yea, it’s just a name, email and nationality, but I’m sure there are people who would pay for it. My thoughts on that: fuck those people and fuck those fuckers who sell personal information to them. You’ll find none of that monkey business here.
If I get hacked and your info get stolen, I’ll shoot you a note to let you know. I don’t deal in passwords, credit cards or anything like that though, so there’s almost nothing for anyone to take.
To see the full privacy policy — it’s pretty boring and cost me a lot of money — you can follow the link at the bottom of the page or in the confirmation email.
First let me say, backpacker/nomads don’t mix well with people living their normal lives. I can’t explain why exactly, but when I’m in a city on the traveler circuit and hang someone who’s just living there, a weird oil-and-water thing happens that I can’t explain. We just don’t mix right.
But let’s talk practicalities, because most of us feel inclined to crash with loved ones when the option exists.
The temptation is understandable, but if you ask me, guest beds are traps. They hit you with more social obligations than a sorority and more hidden costs than a cable bill (unless you’re that savage who doesn’t show up with a good bottle of wine or take your host out to dinner).
To illustrate: my first trip abroad was to France in my 20s. I went to Paris with a red-headed Texan who was wonderfully out of his mind and had the time of my life. We wandered the city of light, minced the French language, ate like Americans and almost got stabbed by a teenage junkie on the Pont des Artes. Paris done wrong is still so right.
My second trip was London. I stayed with a very generous friend with a townhouse at the end of a mews and encyclopedic knowledge of his city. Under his guiding hand, we tripped the light fantastic. The Tower, the jewels, Hampton Court, Greenwich, drinks at a pub where I peed next to Ralph Lauren, Jeff Koons balloon animals, steak tartare at The Ivy one table from Padma Lakshmi and Richard Branson, half-witted shopping at Harrods, you name it. He even took me to see Priscilla Queen of the Desert and bought me a program. Now that I’m adding it up, London was by far the better of the two trips, but if you’d asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said I enjoyed Paris more.
What is wrong with me? Honestly, what the fuck is wrong with me?
Simple: we travel to discover, and discovery doesn’t happen when someone shows you around.
Sure, if it’s your ninth trip to Chicago, save yourself some coin and crash with friends in Hinsdale. You’re not there to see the Sears Tower. Just Uber to Au Cheval, eat the burger and get home before 11. Nobody goes out in Chicago anyway.
If you’re seeing Singapore for the first time though, and your best friend from your summer internship at Barclay’s is there getting paid in sterling, fight the urge to crash. You can meet for dinner, and when she says “I have work early tomorrow,” you can still go party without feeling like an dick. Nobody likes a houseguest whose curfew is later than theirs, and no backpacker likes pressure to observe bedtime because it’s a school night.
If you’re traveling to a city where someone is the main attraction, well, okay. When I go to Melbourne I stay with my friend Dee, because I literally cannot get enough time with my friend Dee. Even time spent sleeping is better for being in proximity to her. Also I don’t really care what I see in Melbourne other than my friend Dee’s face, which happens to be really, really pretty.
Sometimes familial obligations are unavoidable. If, for example, you’re in Athens for four nights, stay two with your aunt Petra and two in a hostel on the other side of town. Tell her you want to be near some distant attraction and chalk it up to saving precious time. If you don’t want to be led around, come on weekdays when she’ll be at work. Or be a real bitch and come when she’ll be out of town.
When I tell Americans they can go to almost any European city and find a great place to stay for less than €50 per night, they look at me like I know too many hookers. When I tell them I’m talking about hostels, that look usually gets dramatically worse, so I give them this speech:
Hostels are, quite simply, shared accommodations. While they do offer private rooms, most people opt for a bed — a bunk, cubby, pod, whatever — in a shared room. Bathrooms are shared too, often down the hall, but en suite happens too.
People like to turn up their nose. “I’d never share a bathroom,” they say, and then I remind them they bathe at the gym. “Sleep in a room with strangers?” they ask with horror. Yea, you do it on every redeye, and you did it at sleep-away summer camp, church retreats and your college dormitory.
Usually then it clicks.
In their defense, hostels of yesteryear were flophouses for the chronically unmotivated. Hostels of today have grown up though and are nice. Some are even downright luxurious — we’ll discuss this a lot in the blog. And their social upsides are amazing.
While touristy areas only have soulless, overpriced hotels, they also have the best hostels. Easy hack there.
Hostels almost always have kitchens, so you can hit up a market for local foods and cook. These kitchens are also social spaces, which often inspires impromptu potluck feasts with people from different places.
And this leads me to people, which is where hostels really shine. Hostel people are generally like you: curious, interesting, fun and down to party—maybe even hook up. There are no strangers here, only friends you haven’t met yet.
The longer you’re on this circuit, the more you’ll see the same people multiple places. I’ve literally bumped into a guy I met in Siem Reap years later on a pool deck in Mexico. Then I saw him in Toronto. When’s the last time that happened after a weekend at a Holiday Inn?
Before you think I have contempt for hotels, let me be clear: I actually love cool hotels. I actually keep a list of my favorite funky ones around the world. You should check them out and stay at a few.
When I’m backpacking or solo traveling though, hotels are isolating. I’m all alone, people aren’t social, and I get bored. Sure, it’s nice to starfish on the bed and freely masturbate. And god knows I love to litter toiletries all over the bathroom like some houseguest from hell. Those are not fair trades for loneliness though.
I do make exceptions: When I travel domestically, I stay in hotels. If I’m traveling for a wedding, escaping my cabin fever for a beach holiday with friends or sneaking around a foreign city with my beloved, always hotels.
If I have a brutally early flight, I stay in a hotel near the airport so I can sleep a little longer and not shit my pants about a ride. For me, it’s worth the cost to not have to panic and pray that the taxi I called will actually show up.
There are also times when a particular hotel is an attraction unto itself. The Bedouin tent hotel where I stayed in Jordan comes to mind, so does the infamous pod hotel in Japan. There are thousands though.
Lastly, when I have a medical issue or even just feel sick, I get a hotel. I’m an ugly, salty patient. It’d be cruel to inflict that on anyone.
All around the world — especially in places where there’s little tourist infrastructure but a whole lot to see — you’ll find people who rent out spare rooms in their homes. Prepare for a bold statement:
These are the best places to stay.
People who do this are often magnificently warm and hospitable. If there’s food involved, it’s more authentic than what you’ll find in any restaurant. And the prices are generally low.
Some home stays — also sometimes called “pensions” (pon-see-ons) — are listed on OTA sites where you’d book hotels or hostels, but sometimes you just gotta Google Maps it or show up cold and talk to a taxi driver.
Remember though that these are homes first and foremost. Ask for the house rules and follow them. Reciprocate the graciousness and don’t make a mess. And above all else, talk to the homeowners. They’ll be some of the best people you meet.
People call these Airbnbs as a shorthand, but that company is shady as fuck, so I like use the proper, unbranded terminology.
Generally speaking, I only do vacation rentals when I’m traveling in a group, because they’re so lonely to do solo. In hostels and even some hotels, company is readily available, but when you have a flat in the middle of a city where you have no friends, it’s easy to become a sightseeing recluse.
If you do choose to do solo vacation rentals — when you rent an apartment in a hub city, for example — you have to engineer ways to meet people. Consider cooking, craft or language classes. Do something active, like yoga or group fitness. Find expat bars where fellow foreigners hang out. There’s one in almost every city. Look for social events on the Couchsurfing or Meetup apps. Or simply eat at the same restaurant every day and get to know the waitstaff.
Confession: On my first trip, I didn’t couch surf once. I would have, but having never hosted, I had no ratings. I didn’t want to find out the hard way what kinds of people would let someone like me crash at their apartment, so I didn’t even try.
I’ve since paid it forward and love it. It’s an amazing way to unlock the local lifestyle and make new friends. It’s also cheap. Yes, cheap; not free. Sure, technically you pay nothing, but every guest should do something for the host to show appreciation, even if it’s just a home-cooked meal.
If you live anywhere worth visiting, you can list your sofa a few months in advance and squeeze in some guests. If those people are from places you want to travel, you’ll then know people who can host you in return.
There is incredible variety out there. If you’re open to sleeping in offbeat places, your trip will be infinitely more interesting. Here are some examples:
I’ve heard of people renting vans and living in them. I’ve heard of people sleeping on beaches, school buses and on rooftops. I’ve also met people who went to Berlin on a Friday, checked their bags, went to Berghain and didn’t stop dancing until Monday. I’m not sure I want to know how they did it, but it saved them the cost of a bed.
The point is, get creative.
Domestic American air travel is a racket run by three major companies and a few smaller ones who effectively collude on prices to screw passengers and support their bloated executives and corporate structures.
Even regional jets, which are technically independent, are fucking death traps that I literally never, ever fly.
It’s not this way in other countries, because most people are sensible and see transportation as akin to a public utility. It’s therefore common to find flights on foreign carriers for under $100. I frequently see fares less $50.
Booking far in advance is therefore unnecessary, except of course in places where tickets sell out. Avoid the temptation to book months or weeks out if you’re just trying to save money. Not only will doing so lock you into dates you might regret, you may end up paying. Why? Booking sites now sniff for your computer’s location and display higher prices for foreigners.
Rude, right? Blame the mirror. We invented that.
First, some bad news for most Americans: automatic transmissions are as rare overseas as manuals are in the US. Unless you want to seriously overpay, make friends with someone who owns an old Miata and learn.
Second, anyone who wants to rent a car should obtain an international driver’s permit. This is easy — just 30 minutes at AAA.
When it’s time to rent, don’t get tempted by lower prices with small, local companies. Go with a big multi-national.
Understand your insurance situation through-and-through. Know the limits of your credit card’s automatic coverage and have a printout of the policy. If you can get a translated copy, even better. If you’re still in doubt after all that, just pay for their coverage.
Research the scams. Before you drive off the lot, walk around the vehicle and video record it. When you return the car, do the same. Also record yourself locking it and depositing the key in the night box if you return after hours.
If you get a notice from the rental company later saying you owe for damage or not returning the car, you can send them those videos with an E-vite to go get fucked. You might also copy tourist law enforcement, so they get fined to oblivion.
It’s tricky, but you need to basically study each country’s road laws and signs like you’re getting your student driver’s permit again. Most places have tricky rules, and they love to fine gringoes like us for violating them.
In Cyprus, for example, you can be fined for eating or drinking anything behind the wheel, even a Snickers. In Denmark, you’re legally required to look under your car before you get inside to ensure no one is underneath. In Spain, drivers with poor vision have to carry a spare set of glasses. Dirty cars are illegal in Russia, as is splashing pedestrians on a rainy day in Japan.
In some places, driving is really difficult. I pity any fool who tries to drive in Cairo. You can also very swiftly kill yourself on a German highway if you’re untrained. Driving at 120 MPH is far more complex than simply pressing the accelerator further.
Fare classes are highly inconsistent.
First class in one country is generally different to first class in any other. The same is true of second, third and so on. They vary wildly by country and system.
If it’s fiscally reasonable, I choose first for early mornings and overnights. They really are better, even just for security of your belongings.
The one time I settled for a second-class overnight, I had to physically fight a mouth-breathing Russian girl who was sweating vodka and wouldn’t stop burying her face into my lap to huff my underpants like Whip-Its. I wish I was making this up, but it’s true. I arrived sleepless, angry and ugly. It ruined my first day in Lisbon and I only had five. First class would have been worth the cost. Second class is my usual go-to. For shorter trips or anything after 9 a.m. I go second.
If I want an adventure, I go even lower. Some agents won’t sell those tickets to tourists though unless you insist.
Nomads and backpackers who don’t do the travel hacking thing usually buy cheap flights. Be careful of taking that too far.
For starters, you need to observe weight limits on baggage. In the US, no one gives a shit, but elsewhere they care. The care deeply. Never buy a ticket that forces you to pay weight overages.
Seats are also important, but not for comfort. I never take bulkhead or exit-row seats unless I pay for early boarding. Both offer less (or zero) under-seat storage, so being in a later boarding group puts you at risk of having nowhere to put your carry on — or as you’ll hear them called “cabin bags.”
I’ve even been on a flight where the attendant nearly made me check my personal item. I shut that down by threatening to create a scene and de-board, but I could have avoided it by paying $8 for priority boarding.
Countless people have asked if I used an around-the-world plane ticket for my first trip.
My simple response: Don’t ask dumb fucking questions. Also, no, I didn’t.
ATW tickets are nearly useless. They typically require you to book your stops in advance, so there’s too little flexibility. The fine print is also brutal and changes constantly.
Last time I researched them, the price was based on allotments of miles. The number of stops also changed the equation. All of them required you to choose a direction (east-to-west, for example) and none permitted travel in the reverse direction even slightly. Some airlines even insisted all departures had to occur from the same point as arrival, meaning if you traveled by land elsewhere, the airline penalized your mileage allotment.
I said airline there, but ATW tickets come come from a single carrier. Instead, you buy into an alliance, of which I believe there are still only three. Quite the lack of competition there.
ATW fares do lend themselves marvelously to itineraries where you go to a different city each month and make it the base from which you explore the region. This is something we’ll talk about later when we discuss hub-and-spoke travel.
If you have status with a particular airline, you may want to consider their ATW option — emphasis on ‘may’ — but be warned that flying everywhere robs you of some great experiences.
Domestic American air travel is a racket run by three major companies and a few smaller ones who effectively collude on prices to screw passengers and support their bloated executives and corporate structures.
Even regional jets, which are technically independent, are fucking death traps that I literally never, ever fly.
It’s not this way in other countries, because most people are sensible and see transportation as akin to a public utility. It’s therefore common to find flights on foreign carriers for under $100. I frequently see fares less $50.
Booking far in advance is therefore unnecessary, except of course in places where tickets sell out. Avoid the temptation to book months or weeks out if you’re just trying to save money. Not only will doing so lock you into dates you might regret, you may end up paying. Why? Booking sites now sniff for your computer’s location and display higher prices for foreigners.
Rude, right? Blame the mirror. We invented that.
The beauty of hub cities is the slow pace. How slow you take it will vary according to the number of side trips as well as your pace. If you commit to a month though, this introduces the possibility of renting an apartment. Even if you don’t plan to stay the full 30 days, apartment rental is generally very cheap. It can also make cooking easier, which also saves cash.
Cooking for yourself doesn’t have to mean eggs for breakfast and chicken dinners. You can dial up the adventure full throttle if you sign up for a greenmarket food tour and a cooking class right after you arrive. Not only will you know what to do with the local ingredients, you’ll eat better. Plus if you know what you’re doing, the vendors may screw you less, which will offset the price of the guide.
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