I’ve been blogging since 2005, although 7 years of posts disappeared into the ether when I upgraded blog platforms (much like your music tapes when you went to CD, and your CD’s when you converted them to MP3, and your MP3’s when you subscribed to a streaming service for every song ever recorded in history ).   Reading through previous year-end posts, I can feel the breeze of time, although a fierce wind has blown aside whimsical adventures in this unprecedented [insert adjective/expletive] era of pandemic.   All the same, I’ve had one my most successful years ever, pivoting my storytelling platforms to share positive insights and meaningful adventures at a time when they’re needed more than ever.   The Omicron variant means tourism is once again under attack, and once again, I feel like a foot soldier in the trenches of inspiration.
 
By December 2021, I would have hoped that vaccines would have got this virus under control, and the world would be approaching some sort of new-normal.     Instead, the Canadian government advisors everyone against travel anywhere outside the country’s borders, fearful of the variant that might be more benign/deadly than anyone knows at this point.  It’s this uncertainty driving everyone crazy, releasing the destructive hounds of conspiracy.  And fuelling vaccine distrust and apathy. 
 
I rarely agree with everything any government does.  I certainly don’t agree with lawyers who diligently expect the worst of everyone, or neurotic health authorities that would mandate we all wear a crash helmet and life vest because, statistically, it would be safer and decrease accidents.  I did however choose to live in Canada, and deeply respect and appreciate that privilege.  Canada – the envy of the world in terms of its lifestyle and economy – politely requests that I believe in science, and get vaccinated so we can put this damn virus on the ropes.  I can argue against the methods and hysteria, but I cannot argue against science, real-world statistics, and my belief in public trust to ensure the safety and wellbeing of my family. Arguing otherwise feels deeply irresponsible, harmful and selfish.   Along with traffic lights, pulling over for fire trucks, tolerating inane airport security and turning off cellphones at the movies, vaccines are a public choice.
 
Oh, travel, sorry, where was I?    This month, my Canadian Geographic Bucket Listed column explored 33 Indigenous Experiences to Add to your Canadian Bucket List.   Watch this space.   I also took a hit looking at the budding potential of cannabis tourism in Canada, where weed routes will one day compete with wine routes.   For my friends Great Canadian Trails, I explore Delicious Canadian Cuisine,  and come up with some Meaningful Gifts for Active Travellers.
 
I’m delighted that my book The Great Global Bucket List has just about sold out and is getting another print run.  Updating the introduction for the era of Covid, I was pleasantly surprised to see how relevant the experiences remain, and that my decision to focus on storytelling over information will make this tome of peak experiences hold up for the decade to come.  The companion website is being completely overhauled and will be launching in January 2022.
 
Wrapping up, I wish everyone an inspired, safe and prosperous year ahead.   And I look forward to confirming as much in a December 2022 end-of-year rant. 

It’s been too many years since my last gift guide, which gathered an eclectic collection of travel-ish products I thought were interesting, helpful, appreciated, unique, or fun. What do you give to someone who has everything?  For starters, you can remind them how lucky they are.  You might consider an experience (memories tend to stick around much longer than products).   If that doesn’t work, maybe something on the list below will work.  A list that includes fire, feet, fun, and something for your butt, because that's how my Gift Guides roll...

Solo Stove Backyard Fire Pit (Ranger + Stand)
 
Here’s a fact:  You can’t roast marshmallows over a propane fire pit.  Well, you can, they just taste like propane, which isn’t very nice at all.  Propane fire-pits might be convenient, but it also lacks the crackle and pop of wood, those five senses of a real fire. It’s also a pain to carry around.  All of which makes the stainless-steel Solo Stove so appealing.  It takes seconds to set up, holds (and with clever air-flow design) sustains a lovely fire, and its base ensures no damage or scorch marks to grass, wood or any outdoor surface beneath it.   Sitting about knee high,  the Solo Stove has a metal net option to trap any unwanted embers, and burns way less smoke than your typical fire put.    Once you’re done and the ranger has cooled down, simply tip the pit over and feed your plants with fine ash.  All of which makes for an instant, easy-to-use fine looking fire pit, and s’mores that don’t taste like a gas tank.  
 
From: $299
Link: https://ca.solostove.com/fire-pits/fire-pit-stand-bundles/

Brutrek BaseCamp Travel Press
 
Coffee was a contentious issue camping this summer.   We obviously needed a good cup to get us going in the morning, but it takes time to do coffee properly, and instant coffee is well, instant coffee.   Introducing a clever travelling press that lets you enjoy your favourite beans, without worrying about smashing glass, or the black gold losing its steam.   The sturdy, double-walled, insulated stainless steel body is topped by a spill-proof, leak-proof lid with a press that keeps the ground beans firmly at the bottom and avoids overcooking the brew.   Available in two sizes, it’s an easy clean-up, and a trusty companion on long hikes too. 
 
From $100 including shipping
Link: https://planetarydesign.com/product/basecamp-french-press/

Keen Tempo Flex Waterproof
I live in a coastal rainforest masquerading as a city. Vancouver is wet, and waterproof shoes are a must. Trainers and runners are fine for rare sunny days, but soaking my cold wet feet in cold wet socks is an experience I’d rather avoid. Keen’s light Tempo Flex waterproof running/hiking/walking hybrids have a speed-lace, slip-on fit, high traction rubber sole, and importantly, don’t look like a baboon’s butt on your feet. They aren’t as wide as Keen’s usual hikers though, but will definitely cut it for urban wear, day hikes or trail running. Most importantly, they keep feet dry. I just checked the weather: solid rain for the next 7 days. Guess there’s only one pair of shoes I’ll be wearing then. Available for Men and Women.

Link: https://www.keenfootwear.com/
From: $180

Sigvaris Travel Compression Socks

Here’s a couple travel tips that will forever change your experience on long haul flights. Firstly: stay away from tomato juice. It’s loaded with sodium, and in the compressed cabin at altitude, it will have your feet swelling up like helium balloons. I only used to drink tomato juice on planes figuring it must be good for you, but a well-versed flight attendant informed it’s the opposite. Stay off the salt! Secondly: slip on a pair of compression socks, which dramatically improves blood circulation to your legs and feet. The result are feet and limbs that feel fresh, rested, and ready to go just as soon as you arrive. Sigvaris Compression socks come in a variety of pattern, styles and fabrics, and will become your new essential travel companion.

​Link: https://www.sigvaris.com/en-ca/shop/experience/travel
From: $40

Fix n Zip
You have a perfectly fine daypack, backpack, sleeping bag or tent. More than perfectly fine. You’ve broken the mustang in, made it home, figured out every compartment, worked out the nooks and crannies. Then the zipper slider breaks, because that’s what zippers eventually do. You might repair it with a zip tie, and now you have a really ugly piece of equipment. You might call a tailor shop who will charge you more to repair the thing than it’s worth. Or you can take this handy little gadget that slots over the slider, thumbscrews in, and voila, instant repair. No thread, no needle, no tools, no fuss. Fix n Zip is made out of durable nickel and works on plastic and metal zippers. You can unscrew it and use it on multiple zips, and it might just save your dress or clothing too. Simple, effective, and adding a few more years to my old trusty backpack.
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Link: https://www.fixnzip.com/
From: $10

PackStack

When it comes to backpacking, packing remains one of the biggest pains in the, well, back. We tend to take too much, use too little, and spend way too much time squeezing and shoving in our stuff when it’s time to pack up. Top-down packs are particularly difficult to get organized. PackStack is a simple system of stackable water or weatherproof compartments where everything can finally have its place. There’s a top handle to pull everything out, and its crescent shape naturally take care of dead space in your backpack. Compartments can separate toiletries from electronics, food from clothing, and it naturally stacks within itself once you’re done.
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Link: https://www.hillsound.ca/products/packstack
From: $25

Luxe Bidet

Here’s one you can’t take this one with you (unless you install it in an RV or caravan). Trust me, once you bidet, it’s hard to go back. There’s something intrinsically refreshing about having a washed derriere (as many Eastern cultures know only too well). There’s quite a few of these gadgets on the market. I found Luxe Bidet to be affordable, easy to install, and great to deal with too. At just $50, it’s easily my most gifted item of 2021, although everyone I gifted it too didn’t think they needed such a thing – seriously Esrock, what the hell?! Then they installed it, tried it, and now they thank me. What gave me the idea for a bidet? Well, my bestselling Bucket List books have always made great toilet reads.
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Link: https://amzn.to/2Zoienn
From: $50

How to Invent Everything by Ryan North
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I used to think I was the only one worried what might happen if a solar storm wiped out electricity, or the internet went down forever, or humanity suddenly reverted back to the Stone Age. How do things actually work? How does the average person save thousands of years of invention without having to figure everything out… again? Using the construct of a stranded time traveller, Ryan North takes on, well… everything we’ve ever invented, and explains how to recreate it using only the basic elements available to someone stranded thousands of years ago. Short, punchy chapters with illustrations teach us how to build kerns and ploughs, art and engineering. The breadth and research of this book makes it, literally, the only manual that needs to survive Armageddon to give humanity some hope of returning to civilization. In the process, you’ll learn tons about history, philosophy, the environment, engineering, the stars, and just about everything North focused his unflinching and impressive curiosity on.
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Link: https://amzn.to/3vHOFt3
Costs: $20

It's October, which means we're going somewhere creepy, and I'm not just referring to the snakes Down Under. 

Australian has no shortage of brutal convict history, but there’s a tangible creep factor visiting the cells of the Old Melbourne Gaol.  It's unnerving as hell standing before the same gallows that dispatched notorious criminals like Ned Kelly, Frederick Bailey Deeming, and 131 others. Especially at night, when the lights are dimmed, the daytime tourists have cleared out, and writer Trevor Poultney is leading a group of two-dozen tourists.   He reassures us that he doesn’t need to make up any silly ghost stories, since the jail has plenty of real-life stories to do the trick.  In fact, the jail’s consistent paranormal activity inspired Trevor to start the ghost tours in the first place.   Of course, nothing has been proved and there’s no guarantee you’ll actually see anything.   I ask two couples in my group why they feel it is a good idea to spend Saturday night in a dark, haunted 19th century prison block.  Both reply that it is a birthday present.  Price of a Ghost Tour: $38.  Scaring the crap out of your spouse: Priceless.

A purple early evening glow still permeates the cellblock when Trevor begins. 
“It’s dark in here, and it’s going to get darker.  Keep in a tight group, as it’s less likely you’ll be picked off.”    He’s joking of course, but he’s also a great storyteller, adding just enough bite to his words to keep everyone on edge.   It’s a ninety-minute tour, mostly conducted outside the cells since they are too small, too dark, too claustrophobic and too damn spooky to spend much time in. Trevor begins with the tale of a site supervisor locking up the museum for the night. Suddenly, she felt someone kick her in the leg.  Heavy doors began banging, chains rattled, and she heard groans and screams. Apparently, much of the weirdness tends to emanate from Cell 17 on the second level, although no particular record exists as to why this would be the case.  Trevor tells us that prisoners were often moved around, documentation has vanished, but conditions were notoriously horrific.      At the rear of the first level, we sit around the lit-up death mask of Ned Kelly, the most infamous bushranger in Australian history.   Alongside replicas of the handmade armour Ned wore during his famous shoot-out with the law, Ned’s head is the museum’s most famous attraction.  Gad is it creepy!    

After the lifeless bodies of the condemned were removed from the gallows, it was common practice for prison officials to shave their heads and cast their death mask for research.  It was part of a discredited 19th century practice called phrenology, which believed science could physically determine the motivations of criminals and lunatics.   Ned’s head looks peaceful enough as Trevor whips out his tablet to show us the three types of ghost photos the jail receives from visitors.  There are the fakes, easy to spot and silly to attempt.  The second are from people seeing things that simply aren’t there, an easy but sincere mistake given the numerous shadows and effects of using a camera flash. 
“You paid good money.  It’s an atmospheric building.  We’re very suggestible.  Of course we want to see a ghost, why else would we be here?” he explains.  Out-of-focus blurry zoomed-in photos do make great ghost photos, but the apparition is just about always in the eye of the beholder.   But, as my own photo from Savannah testifies, not always.   The third photos are the anomalies, the ones with no feasible explanation.  Trevor shows us the spectre of a man with a hat standing outside Cell 17.  We see the wraiths of a woman and child that can be seen hovering on level three. Other visitors, who have not taken a ghost tour, claim to have physically encountered these people during the day, with some even asking them for directions.   At the gallows on the second level, the very spot where 129 men and four women took their last breath, Trevor shows us the one photo that continues to freak him out.   His own feet appear at the top of the photo beneath the demonstration rope…only, he was with the visitor who took the photo on the other side of the cell.
“I think it’s a peaceful building,” he whispers.  “Do I believe in ghosts?  Things happen here, and that’s as far as I’ll go.” ​

​We have fifteen minutes to roam about freely before closing. We’ll enter cells to gaze at the haunting death masks of dispatched prisoners, feeling an icy chill lick our necks.   We’ll read about the torrid history and conditions of the prison, which operated between 1842 and 1929.  Not many visitors will go as far as to enter Cell 17, because Trevor has done a bang-up job spooking us about it.  This is where the belligerent man with the hat appears.  Where guests feel something pushing on them.  Where breath gets laboured, and electronic devices go on the fritz.  This is the one cell where guide dogs refuse to enter.    With nervous giggles, a few of us still walk into Cell 17. With our imaginations in overdrive, a sense of dread in the cell is unmistakable.   I took plenty of photos, of course, and I’ve poured over them in search of an apparition.  As much as I want to believe beyond the shadows, I did not strike ghostly photographic gold in the Melbourne Gaol. I did however encounter a fascinating cultural and architectural history, entertaining stories, unforgettable characters, and a true one-of-a-kind experience.   What more could you ask for on a great night out in the city?

Click here for more information about a Melbourne Gaol ghost tour, although as with many other activities in Melbourne and elsewhere, this is something to consider in your post-Covid plans. 

In less haunting news, you can read my latest Bucket Listed columns for Can Geo Travel which adds 11 new experiences to my ever-expanding Canadian Bucket List, and reviews the incredible Arctic landscapes in renowned artist Cory Trepanier's new book. 

Travel safe, stay inspired, and don't turn into a pumpkin.  

Leaves are turning yellow and falling fast outside my office window, which means summer is either done, or nature is committing arboreal hari-kari.  Can’t blame it either, what with anti-vaxxers protesting outside the same hospitals they’re clogging.  I asked my sister-in-law, a nurse, if these idiots have really been as demoralizing for hospital staff as the media report.  “Even worse,” she tells me.   Red-eyed, overworked and stressed out, hospital staff are dealing with unvaccinated patients in ICU’s begging them for help just a few days after these same patients loudly proclaimed that the whole thing is a hoax, or they’re young and healthy and Covid is therefore not a threat.    There’s a Reddit group that gathers journeys of Covid-deniers from vehement conspiracy theorists all the way to their death beds.  Suicide by Covid they call it (and as with everything on Reddit, I apologize for what you might find there).   It’s called CovidAteMyFace, but I suppose it could be called Schadenfreude.   It’s sad and tragic and stupid and… enough of that.  It's exhausting.  We’re here for bucket list-inspired inspiration, and I’m happy to report I have some of that too.
 
Heli-fly fishing?  Ghost Towns?  Jet-boating?  Tick tick tock.   I saw out my summer outside the town of Terrace in Northern British Columbia, reminding myself that “heli” appended to any activity makes that activity infinitely cooler.  Heli-dining.  Heli-dating?  Heli-tennis.   Helicopters are surely the most graceful way to fly and the way we should all be getting around, not just the rich and powerful of Sao Paulo.  The only problem is it costs between 75c and $1 a second to fly, and that’s after you’ve laid out the $250K - $1.7m for the actual machine.  As with sail boats and hot tubs, a helicopter is not something you want to own so much as have a good friend who does.  After a sensational weekend away with the folks of Northern Escape Heli Ski, I’d like to think I now do, although we’re all just heli-fans and adventurers, as opposed to billionaires looking to do anything with their disposable income – race super yachts, fly to space – rather than pay it in taxes.   I’ll be posting full reports of my heli adventures in the coming months, and have added jet-boating along the Skeena to Canada's national bucket list.

You might also be a fan of the late author Douglas Adams, who wrote Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency and the genius dictionary of made-up words, the Meaning of Liff.  In 1992, he wrote a book called Last Chance to See, a travelogue about his journey to visit animals on the verge of extinction.  Although the book has dated (some rare creatures have now completely vanished), I’m struck at how ahead of his time Douglas Adams was.  Not only did he give us the meaning of life (the number 42, in case you forgot), but he foresaw the sad reality that a modern bucket list is not so much about doing something before you die, but before it disappears.  

I write these words in the midst of a second unprecedented heat wave in a normally mild British Columbia summer.  The first claimed over 500 lives in just three days, a staggering number that’s largely slipped under the flood of the 24-Covid news cycle.  Meanwhile hundreds of wildfires are burning in the interior, smoking our skies sepia, evacuating thousands of people and torching the entire town of Lytton, a popular destination for river rafting.  Scientists estimate over a billion marine animals cooked in the first heatwave, and more are undoubtably boiling in their shells this weekend as the temperature and humidex approach the mid 40°Cs.   Climate change has come home to roost, and techno-evangelism (technology will save us!) suddenly rings a little hollow for Pacific Island nations soon be underwater, communities going up in flames, loved ones burying their dead or biodiversity battered by urban encroachment, poaching and agriculture.   I know you come here for good news, but since I’m a pragmatic optimist, we have to accept that the near and far future will suffer increasingly extreme weather events, causing unparalleled environmental, financial and cultural devastation.  All I can hope is that this finds you in a safe and stable nation with enough progressive foresight and resources to prepare for this eventuality.  All I can hope is that my bucket list books do not become works of history – much like Last Chance to See -  a review of destinations that also no longer exist.  Unfortunately,  not much has been gained in thirty years since Douglas Adams sounded his convincing warning bell, and so much has been lost.   

My new ‘Bucket Listed’ column for Canadian Geographic Travel combines commentary with my travel recommendations.  Each column is short and punchy and well worth reading, especially my second column about Indigenous tourism.   My joyous and poignant Celebration of Canada column was sunk by the sombre nature of this year’s Canada Day, which coincided with horrific discoveries of residential school graves,  sparking outrage at the nation and Catholic church’s complicity in an obvious attempt at cultural genocide.  It’s a heavy topic for non-Indigenous Canadians to grasp, which is why I highly recommend reading Peace Pipe Dreams: The Truth about Lies about Indians which uses a lighter touch to help us understand the many challenges and injustices that Indigenous communities face today.  Next,  I explored risk tolerance with a column entitled:  Is it Safe to Travel Again?  before jumping into practical tips for planning bucket list road trips and revealing some of my favourite, less-known experiences in every province.  

Speaking of road-trips, I recently returned from a little adventure of Vancouver Island with the kids, ticking off some must-do experiences along the way.  The new Malahat Skywalk was spectacular, with a few unexpected offerings (like a slide, boardwalk and adventure net) to elevate the experience well above just another roadside attraction.  I’ve long heard about caving on Vancouver Island, so I’m a little shocked it took me so long to get to the Horne Lake Caves.  I just assumed they were typical show-caves, but it’s more aligned with my best spelunking adventures abroad:  hardhats, overalls, scrambling, twisting, ducking and climbing.   Letting the kids hammer away for fossils under the guidance of an enthusiastic and experienced dinosaur museum curator was a stroke of genius, and we finished off at a fun camping festival in a forest near Courtenay.  After 60 days of no rain, the heavens opened up and drowned us with the heaviest rainfall in years, soaking the thirsty fields and farms, and maintaining my 85% record of a mud-soaked fiesta whenever I camp at a festival.  The Canadian government should just drop me off with a tent, a band and a DJ in the country’s most drought-impacted regions:  statistical probability will take care of the rest.  You can read about my Vancouver Island road-trip in my latest post on the newly relaunched www.canadianbucketlist.com
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​Finally, I want to give a shout-out to the team at Great Canadian Trails, who are also passionate about remarkable Canadian outdoor adventures.   You don’t need to be a hardcore backcountry explorer, cyclist, hiker, or paddler to experience the joys of a true bucket list adventure.  GCT offer guided and self-guided tours that take care of all the logistics and make these kind of adventures far more achievable, accessible and enjoyable than you’d ever expect.   We’ve been working together for years, they’re great people, and I’m thrilled they’ve managed to endure the challenges of Covid to emerge even more determined to help me build your lifetime highlight reel.    

​Like any practical optimist, I’m waiting to see how the highly anticipated tourism boom plays out.  Dramatic change has both positive and negative consequences. After bringing an industry to its knees, Covid is undoubtedly an opportunity for tourism to return as something better.  ​

A few months before the pandemic, I stood on a stage in Wellington to warn tourism marketers in New Zealand about the problems of over-tourism.   It feels almost quaint now, those reports of tourists overrunning attractions to the detriment of the environment, the industry, and experience of those tourists themselves.   I like to think there’s a boardroom somewhere where global tourism power players sit around a table to plan and plot the new normal.  I like to think they debate how the industry can return more responsibly, sustainably, and committed to the positive values of tourism as opposed to revenues above all else.    I still shudder when I think about Bali, Angkor, Western Australia’s Monkey Mia and high-season traffic in Vancouver’s Stanley Park:  pre-Covid, it was getting ugly out there. ​

I know.  All this is rich coming from someone who’s ticked off their bucket list in over 100 countries, or never spent a cent to offset carbon credits (primarily because travel writing is not one of those professions with too many cents to go around in the first place).  I wrote about how I was complicit in over-tourism before, I just don’t want to have to write about it again.  ​

We have an opportunity to force the closure of exploitative attractions for good.  We can stop treating old Europe as a strip-mall parking lot for massive cruise ships.  We can keep crowd limits and pre-bookings in place.   Unchecked growth was shaping a disaster.  As growth finally returns to the battered tourism industry, let’s do what we can to check it. ​

Congratulations!  Each decade of your life is an accomplishment. Goals are realized, professions evolve, priorities shift, families grow and experience is gained.  This is also reflected in how we choose to travel, and where we choose to go.   Celebrating these important milestones, I've gathered inspiring destinations to suit this passage of time.  Of course, every journey is unique. You can turn these decades upside down, or mix them up entirely. A bucket list is as special and individual as the person who crafts it, and each life journey is one’s own.   As for the passing of the years themselves, I defer to the wisdom of Mark Twain:  “Age is an issue of mind over matter.  If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter!” ​

In our twenties, we travel to relish in the excess.  All night parties, camping on beaches, intense relationships – all with a no-holds-barred commitment to the carefree abandon of youth.  It's a time to make the kind of mistakes you'll learn from, and sacrifices you'd only make when you're young.  Legends of Full Moon parties and all-night desert parties sound particularly appealing, and you don't mind sleeping on floors or eating instant noodles for a month if it means you can get to them.  Backpacking across Western Europe is a rite of passage, although it's also very expensive,  Stretching your travel dollar, you'll be drawn to budget-travel meccas like Thailand, Central America, India and Laos. You might be drawn to a Kibbutz in Israel or volunteering with animals in Bolivia.  Everything and everyone will be particularly vivid and intense, an opportunity to learn and grow and let your hair down.  You'll only realize just how big that opportunity was when you're further along your life journey. ​

At last, the kids are at summer camp, or old enough to join us on an adventure that's physical, but not too strenuous.   As careers stabilize and hobbies strengthen, perhaps it’s time to hike the Inca Trail, trek in Nepal, or spend our well-earned holidays on a multi-day bike ride through the valleys of Italy or France.  A fly-in fishing trip in Canada, a multi-day rafting excursion between the Grand Canyon,  or maybe just an epic road trip to explore the Oregon coast, Route 66, Yellowstone or Banff National Parks.   Consider a few weeks camping across Iceland, or taking a tour to pack in the highlights of Western Europe. Volunteering in a foreign country delivers a rich, rewarding experience.   Teaching kids, building wells, looking after rescued animals – making a difference in the lives of others makes a difference for us too. Old enough to know better and yet young enough to go with the flow, the forties is a milestone decade to follow our feet, and safely veer off the beaten track. ​

We’ve always wanted to go there.  We’ve always wanted to do that.  As we enter the seventh decade of life, we realize our bucket list destinations are not going anywhere, but we most certainly are. Fortunately, in an age of affordable airfare and such a diverse variety of packages, our dreams are more accessible than ever.   Cruise among the islands and abundant wildlife of the Galapagos.  On the plains of the Serengeti and the legendary Masai Mara, witness the migration of the wildebeest from the comforts of a luxury, or self-catered bush camp, and make friends with Masai tribesmen.  It’s not always easy, but we’ll put up with a sweaty trek for a face-to-face encounter with endangered mountain gorillas in the jungles of Central Africa.  Iconic landmarks like the Great Wall of China and the Coliseum, the Eiffel Tower and the Taj Mahal draw us like magnets.   Perhaps it’s also time to finally tick off that Alaska or Caribbean cruise, or visit long-lost relatives in the nations of our ancestors.   Let’s celebrate how far we’ve come, and appreciate the value of all that is to follow. ​

The folks who travel to every country and territory are a very special breed.  They all have their individual motivations, but there’s an obsession that drives them to actually go everywhere, and I mean everywhere.  It’s just not enough to join the Traveler’s Century Club, because if you made it that far, why not keep going?   For starters, it requires a peculiar set of resources and skills.  Financial, most certainly, but also hustle if you’re not insanely wealthy (which is very often the case). One needs an excellent grasp of logistics, and an acumen for resourcefulness, and most critically, to stay out of trouble.  I’ve met several people who have ticked off all 195 UN-recognized countries, along with dozens of disputed territories that don’t quite make it (such as Transnistria, Abkhazia, Socotra, and other places you’ve likely never heard of).  A good example is my friend Rus Margolin, and you can read my interviews with him here and here.   This month, I was approached by a young Dane named Henrik Jeppesen who has spent 10 years achieving his impressive goal, which he’s recorded on a  blog aptly titled everycountryintheworld.com.   Henrik has been interviewing accomplished travellers and wanted to interview me.  I agreed to answer his 8 questions of course, but not without asking him to answer 8 questions of my own.   You can read my own answers to Henrik’s questions here.  ​

​One of the wilder news items I've come across is a financial report:    “Based on the expert analysis and our database of 480+ CA industries, IBISWorld presents a list of the Fastest Growing Industries in Canada by Revenue Growth (%) in 2021.”     After Covid mugged Tourism, kicked us the ground, stole our wallets, and insulted our mothers, these analysts are predicting a remarkable return. 
Call it:  The Revenge of Tourism:  This time, it’s personal.

I personally believe we’ll look back on this decade as one of the most exciting, innovative and positive of the century.  2001 gave us a disaster, 2008 a meltdown, 2016 a disastrous meltdown. 2020 was the turning point, but the pandemic will be the accelerant for many positive social, technological, professional, and environment shifts that would not have occurred otherwise.  It’s been a slog and yes, the suffering has been tremendous.  While the long-term impact may be devastating for some, others will find the silver linings so thick they’ll be able to skate them.  After wobbling thanks to explosive and largely unanticipated growth, the Great Reset has allowed global tourism to take stock, buckle up, and luck avoid the unsustainable mistakes of overtourism.   The focus will shift to quality over quantity:  more magic, less line-ups.  All this travel will also make the world smaller, kinder and closer. As we all went through the pandemic together, we’ll emerge with something we’ve lacked for ages:  a common purpose and global identity.  We all went through it, what bigger ice-breaker do you need? ​

It was December 25th, and we were exploring a beachside village on the island of Zanzibar.   The weather was perfect, the sandy beach endless, the sunset epic, and I remember my girlfriend at the time being utterly miserable.  It was Christmas Day in paradise, but she was homesick.   Literally: feeling ill in her longing for the comfort of her home and family.  ​

Homesickness doesn’t impact every traveller, but those that suffer from it can do so acutely. It accentuates the strangeness and uneasiness of being in a foreign place, causing mild distress to full-blown depression.    There have been few academic studies about the topic, mostly addressing the situation of college students leaving home, or with the aim to help immigrants or expats adjust and settle.  In the world of tourism, the fail-safe remedy is shoulder-shrug obvious:  if you get homesick easily, don’t leave home.    Still, homesickness can ambush even veteran travellers from one day to the next, onset by family events and occasions, guilt, and even weather.  Away from the sunshine of the nest, it’s easy to idealize family gatherings, the embrace of a parent, or the warm taste of home-cooking.   Life-long travellers with ants in their underpants (myself included) certainly miss home, but tend to view its absence as the cost of adventure.  Like any endeavour into the unknown, sometimes it’s worth it, sometimes it’s not. ​

Homesick has a new definition: we’re no longer feeling sick for the longing of home, but rather, we’re sick of spending too much time at home.  As winter settles into its longest stretch, my desire for a change of scenery is becoming acute, and my memories of travels – from the Amazon to Zanzibar – fade and fog.   It’s just one of the reasons why I believe the 20’s are going to roar louder than many a decade that has come before.   We will soon take our first tentative steps into the post-pandemic world, and once we feel the ground as solid as we remember it, expect confetti to explode.  Few will pine to go Home for a Rest, rather:  we’ll flee with unabashed  glee, chasing the Spirit of the West, East, North and South.  And while we’ll always long for the comfort and familiarity of our homes, reversing the meaning of the word “homesick” may ultimately end up being the best treatment for those who still suffer from it.  ​