TRAVEL REGRET #1 - Planning

TRAVEL REGRET #1

We should probably start with the one travel regret that gets all of us, the one that haunts our dreams on long bus journeys across dusty or rain-soaked landscapes, the one that sneaks up on us as we realise our time is running short, the one that we fight ourselves over: Should I? Shouldn't I?

Eating something bad? Forgetting something important? Waking up to remember you stole a motorbike in Hat Rin and now have a Ko Phangan tattoo? Well no, but more on that later.

No, none of the above in fact. Instead my opening Travel Regret is a lack of planning. That's right, when you try to take it easy and end up missing all those places that those down the road tell you were their highlights.

Bastards.

I think I've probably missed as many great things as I've seen and all because I never really took the time to plan out my trip.

Now, there are those who will tell you, 'Hey, don't plan! Just go with it!'

Those same people tend to be the ones with no food in the hostel fridge, dreadlocks, and who appear to be 'going troppo', all a ruse for the fact that they don't know where to wash their clothes.

They claim they see more and experience more. Well, you try going to a Serbian village and engaging in compelling sign language with the locals in order to ascertain what and where you should visit, all in the pursuit of a purer form of travel.

I know, I know. It's not cool, you tell me. It's not hip to plan, man.

Well I am sorry. I don't have a beard, I don't eat obscure types of nuts because they had them at the farmers market, I don't eat quinoa (well, I do but not because it's cool). I'm no wanna be hipster. I'm an old fashioned planner, a scheduler. I love www.bahn.de because it tells me what time trains depart from stations in deepest Moldova, I love Excel because I lets me map out my journeys to make the most of my limited travel time and money.

And most of all I love Lonely Planets.

By now I imagine all those cool kids with beards full of nuts have long since stopped reading, so we should all be free to admit the worth, the joy and the pleasure that a good travel guide can offer us.

Me, nothing signifies the start of my trip more than heading to my local bookshop and getting the Lonely Planet of the country I'm going to. I read it on the plane/train/automobile (I travel on automobiles) when I'm on my way; I read it in the hostel as I eat cheap crap to save money and I read it at night to cut down on having to carry a book.

I look at the maps sneakily so no one can see I'm a tourist; I go to the bars it recommends and imagine the person who wrote the recommendation by looking at the clientele.

In short, I follow.

I am no leader, let the cool kids lead and pave the way while sleeping on toilet seats and eating leaves.

I'm no luxury traveller. I'm no cool kid. I'm no hipster.

I'm a Lonely Planet traveller.

And you know what, if it helps me avoid a few regrets at the end of my trip then there goes my status as I am who I am.