Let’s first address the question a lot of new travelers feel too self-conscious to ask: What is a visa?
Visas are essentially formal, written permission to enter another country, and you obtain them in one of six ways:
There are a number of countries that have special arrangements wherein Americans don’t need to formally apply for a visa; Canada and South Korea are great examples. Americans can generally enter freely and stay for generous periods of time.
Every country has its limits and rules though, so it’s important to check the US Department of State and verify the current visa requirements, application details and limitations before you book travel arrangements.
We’re not talking about estimated time of arrival; we’re talking about electronic travel authorizations, which you’ll sometimes see abbreviated to ETIAS as well.
Some countries freely let Americans in, but we first have to apply for authorization through a website or an app. If you want, you can think of it as a visa — the two are certainly similar — but the function is different.
They’re quick to process, but do not wait until the last minute. It’s best to apply before you make any travel arrangements.
The short answer is: almost anywhere. Whether we do is a different story.
It’s a sad fact of American life that so few of us have passports. According to the State Department, currently only a third of us do, and of that embarrassing number, few use them.
Even if we have them, it’s usually to go to Mexico or the Caribbean for Spring Break or a honeymoon. Those who go farther are often immigrants or the children thereof traveling to visit loved ones, not experience new places.
This is pathetic.
Different passports open different doors, and American passports open up more than most. To be American and not take advantage of this is like throwing away a steak.
Passport strength is an ongoing debate of subjective priorities, such as:
According to the Passport Index, we currently rank in ninth place. That sounds good until you realize that lots of countries tie at the top and there are 40 above us, a steep and humiliating decline from our position in 2015 when we tied for third.
There are many countries that don’t like the US that freely still welcome American travelers, and hooray for that.
Others, like Turkmenistan, Yemen, Bhutan, Nigeria and Pakistan, are exceptionally difficult. A few, including Libya, Iran, Eritrea and Venezuela, are nearly impossible, and depending on what Trump tweeted from the golden toilet last week, North Korea sometimes literally is.
I take it as a great point of pride that I once successfully navigated the Iranian visa process that involved a road trip to DC, dozens of phone calls and one literal sleepless night. Their security services wanted to know everything about: My mother, my father, my father’s mother and her father’s father, the names of his pets, my step-siblings’ preferences for ketchup over mustard, SAT scores, annual salary, how much I spent on shoes last spring, etc.
In the end, it was so wildly beyond worth it that I now suggest people make a point to try to visit tricky countries. I know a lot of you are thinking “Andy, I have no interest in seeing any of those places.”
Yea, you say that now. Just wait.
If you didn’t already know, sorry, visas have price tags, and they very depending on where you’re from.
This somehow slipped my mind until I drew up my final travel budget and realized my error. I searched country-by-country on my itinerary and found lots of high fees but no surprises. Then I got to Bolivia.
Let me first say, Bolivia is terrific. Sucre is lovely. The Uyuni is a world wonder. The food is rich and delicious. The people are warm and kind. The craftsmanship! My stars and garters, the craftsmanship! And let’s not forget quinoa, folks.
Have I blown enough smoke? Great, because Bolivia, you’re outta your damned mind, girl.
This is the poorest country in South America, a fact with which I deeply sympathize and for which I, as an American, bear real responsibility. But for perspective, the GDP of Paraguay, a country whose national pastime might actually be corruption, is higher. Suriname, which may or may not have actual cities, is more “livable.” Can you even find Suriname on a map? I can’t, and I feel no embarrassment admitting that. So why grind Bolivia’s ax? Simple, I’m jilted. I really wanted to see the salt flats, but $160 for three days and a passport stamp? What? I know; it’s just $160 dollars, but when the cost of a visa can literally be calculated as a significant percentage of a native citizen’s annual income, that’s excessive — and I’ve bought OJ at Erawhon.
After this spoiled first-world tirade, they’ll probably lock me out permanently, and they’d be right to. Me the American kvetching about the cost to enter a country whose costs to stay are so low is like whining about taxes on lotto winnings. I really am a twat.
High-priced visas sting though, especially for short stopovers, so research and budget for them.
Every country limits how long you can legally stay. The amount varies, but it’s usually a few weeks or months. Sometimes it’s a specific window you specify on your application. Either way, there is zero ambiguity and entering and exiting countries is pretty straightforward business as long as you observe one rule: Never overstay.
Take the example of Europe. As an American, you’re entitled to 90 days in any 180-day period of visa-free travel to any country party to the Schengen agreement. It’s a pretty good deal. Wouldn’t want to fuck it up, would you? No, because if you violate it, you’ll pay a doozie of a fine and can be banned for a year — or more f they have to deport you.
Policies and penalties vary by country and constantly change. Even the agent enforcing the rule affects the outcome. If they want to throw a book at you because they hate your hair, they totally can. I would. It’d be funny.
If you overstay somewhere, it’s fair to assume you like that place and want to go back. Let’s say you don’t though. Getting barred is no big deal then, right? Wrong. Overstays result in a big ugly stamp or notation in your passport. Try using that passport to go elsewhere, and the customs agent might notice it and reject your entry.
Immigration officers hate overstayers, even if the overstaying happened elsewhere, so always leave a day or two early.
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.
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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