I’ve spent over 1,000 days traveling and living abroad, and while some of those days I feel equipped to run a nation, and other times, I’m a mere breakdown away from resorting to pampers, the happy medium in there reminds me that the growth has been incredible over time.
And for those who are about to embark on long-term travel for the first time, I hope this post can help give you some insight as to what there is to know about the crazy world of travel.
1. Become a “YES” gal. They make for the best stories.
Petra, Jordan
I met a guy Dace, from San Francisco, while traveling in Jordan, and when we were swapping stories, he reminded me of the importance of being a “yes” man. And how saying “yes” to every offer and conversation led to one of the most unforgettable days he’s ever had while traveling. And I couldn’t agree more.
Invited for lunch by customs officers at the border in Cyprus? I said YES.
Climb a dangerously steep, massive rock to watch the sunset in Petra? I said YES.
Explore a new city with someone you know from Instagram? ALWAYS SAY YES.
2. Learn to let the universe play its course.
Missed your flight? It happens! Stay an extra day and do something ridiculous and unforgettable. Get super lost? Good news! There’s something everywhere you turn, so you’re never technically “lost”, just completely opposite of where you initially intended to go. The hot guy you met has just left? No worries! He probably has herpes a girlfriend and was looking for an excuse to cheat on her. Dodged a bullet there, soldier. Chat it up with the other guy who’s been eyeing you instead.
Whether it’s patience, resourcefulness, or destiny that the universe is trying to show and teach you, allow it to do its job. If everything always went as planned, we’d all be billionaires, right?
3. Surround yourself with like-minded travelers.
As someone who spends her days constantly pouring inspiration, motivation, and empowering words into the lives of others, you get to a point where you exhaust all your energy and need to be refueled by the words and inspiration of like-minded people. If you drain your mind of all the hope and encouragement you constantly give others, then there’s nothing left for you. Seek mentorship and surround yourself with those who fan your flames, not extinguish them.
4. Don’t ignore your anxiety/stress/depression.
Sveti Stefan, Montenegro
Life happens to everyone, and it’s important to look after your mental health just as much as your physical health. Don’t ignore your depression if/when it comes. Sometimes, there will be no cause of it. Sometimes, you won’t know who to talk to. Sometimes, you won’t want anyone to talk to. But be sure to do something that’s actively combatting or fighting it. You are not above getting help for anything you go through just because your life is coveted or romanticized by others.
5. Know your privilege and don’t abuse it.
London, UK
Whether it’s your privilege of traveling without visas based on your nationality, your privilege of not getting randomly stopped and checked for papers, or even your privilege that allows you to afford this lifestyle.
Keep your privilege in check and don’t ever mistake it as an unwavering right.
6. Call your mom.
Check in with her as often as possible. Any way you can. Calls. Texts. Photos. Skype. Whatever. There is no such thing as over-calling the woman who brought you into the world that you’re currently exploring.
7. Document everything. In multiple ways.
Chiang Mai, Thailand
Journal. Blog. Video. Photos. Letters. Postcards. Stamps. Anything! It’ll be SO valuable [for you] down the line. The one thing you’re promised is your nows and todays. So document them! Remember them in their purest form by writing and recording those moments you want to keep forever.
I wish I took more video of my travels back in 2012. Video is as raw as it gets and whether you do anything with it or not, you’ll have something to laugh and reminisce over years from now when Facebook reminds you that this cyber gold still exists.
8. Don’t confuse a magical moment for a magical guy.
Sunset in Budva, Montenegro
Ah, yes. The inevitable. Falling in love on the road. You’re sitting on a hilltop, overlooking the sea, fireworks lighting up the sky from some random local festival that gave you another excuse to drink, and you’re sharing that moment with a guy you met a few hours ago. All of a sudden, you’re planning out your exotic happily-ever-after when he’ll just turn out to be a miserably-never-again. You ignored the red flags, because when in Rome, right?! Wrong. Because you’re in Barcelona. But also, no. Lol.
Follow your heart, but take your brain and morals with you. I promise you, the two can coexist despite what our Jersey Shore generation wants you to believe.
[Tweet "Don't confuse a magical moment for a magical guy"]
9. Good people are everywhere.
The amount of strangers, locals, and guardian angels I've encountered on the road, are enough to remind me that 99.9% of the human race is innately good. We all love and hurt the same, and when we put our differences aside, we're so much more alike than we think. Before the world was separated by invisible borders and nationalist movements, we all existed as one, and the random acts of kindness I receive daily on the road, are great reminders of that.
10. Travel for more than just the fun of it.
Jerusalem, Israel
Travel to learn. To challenge yourself. To earn trust. To make friends. To lose friends. To experience heartache. Poverty. Refugees. Corruption. Politics. Travel to change more than just your profile picture, because there is so much to gain from this invaluable experience.
[Tweet "Travel to learn. To challenge yourself. To earn trust."]
Originally posted on The Blog Abroad.
While I'm not here to write a think-piece on a few recent events affecting the black community in America, I'm fully aware of the frustration, disgust, and utter numbness that's getting harder to suppress by my fellow African-Americans when these events make international news.
But it's extremely important for us to not only bind together in peace, but to also do what's necessary to decompress and take a break from the madness if we find it to be consuming the better part of us.
We could argue back and forth about this or we could take a break from the exhaustion of tip-toeing around people's fears for our skin color in a country we helped build, and just go somewhere where we're tolerated instead.
Last year, even our beloved Bahamas, of which 90% of the population is black, issued a travel warning for those wanting to visit the U.S. soon. Not the first time either. A sign of the times.
Although travel is an absolute privilege for so many, I want to encourage my fellow black Americans who've had their passport in hand just waiting for the opportune moment to take off temporarily, that the time is now.
While I'd love to include other continents in the mix, Europe is the one I've spent the last three years exploring the most. So it's currently the only continent I can confidently offer suggestions for cities that not only welcome black skin color, but celebrate it as well.
So without further adieu, here are my top five European city recommendations for travel when enough is enough:
1. Edinburgh, Scotland
Not only will they feel comfortable opening up to you about their life stories within seconds, but they'll invite you for a beer, banter about how much they hate England (haha, sorry Brits), and find a way to make light of any negative situation.
Collectively, they have some of the best senses of humor and while you'll only catch every third word or so due to their accents (God bless it), their charm, welcoming spirits, and laid back personalities are those of the exact type of people you need in your life.
Just don't go in the winter. Because hashtag, brutal.
2. Berlin, Germany
Berlin is jokingly known as the “poor but sexy" cousin to Munich, but is always a millennial favorite for digital nomads, gap year students, and others just in between jobs and taking time off to travel.
Germany is a pretty liberal country in general, and whether it's the crazy house parties, the endless selection of cuisines, nudist parks, or the hipster vibe dripping throughout the streets, it's a city that has something for everybody.
It's got an amazing international community, so you'll be bumping elbows with people from all walks of life on a nightly basis.
It's also goes without saying that due to the dark Nazi history of Germany, they really have no room to repeat or harbor negativity towards other cultures, and it seems like they make a deliberate effort not to do so.
3. Nice, France
Nice, which sits cozily along the French Riviera, is one of the most colorful, vivacious, and diverse cities in France.
You're in a melting pot of cultures from around the world, which again means incredibly varied cuisines, and not to mention one of the most beautiful and unique architectural layouts in Europe, because of its mixed Italian and French influence in the past.
Nice is a city I'm always happy to go back to, and if you're traveling for a longer period of time and you're short on black hair care products, you'll have no problem finding everything you need to re-stock up on here.
4. Krakow, Poland
I don't know what took me so long to discover Poland, but I finally did (thanks, Busabout!) and loved every single minute.
Not only do the Polish people stop and smile at you as you pass them on the street, but you can can feel their warmth and genuine appreciation for you being there by their expressions.
Though the basic words of the Polish language are a challenge to master, they'll smile at your attempts and will meet you more than halfway with their very high levels of English.
I mentioned it to a couple Aussies how cute it was when elderly people would see me, do a double-take, and look so amazed. And almost on cue, a lady passed by and did exactly what I described, and my Aussie friend couldn't stop laughing about it.
A Polish friend told me the other day that she'd only met two black people in her life growing up, but assured me that I wouldn't ever have a problem with not feeling welcomed, and she was right.
Everywhere I went, every restaurant I walked into alone, all eyes were on me.
But not in a terrifying way, but more so a "Wow, how cool to have a black person in our presence!" kind of way. And it's both awesome and hilarious, and I think every black person needs to experience this and be spoiled forever, lol.
While on a bike tour, our Polish guide ended his spiel with a very resounding speech about how much the Jewish community influenced the current state of Krakow, and how he's so excited about the potential of the city and welcomes all other cultures to continue coming and contributing to what makes Krakow so great. I was greatly moved by his words.
5. Budva, Montenegro
Budva is a city that's on the extreme end of how much black skin can be appreciated abroad -- but not as extreme as Italy, which you could read exactly what I'm talking about here, LOL.
But in Budva, you're not only welcomed, you're practically celebrated, as you're viewed as a celebrity as one restaurant owner confessed they get roughly two black tourists a year, and I'm sure that's an overstatement, ha.
As you're casually mistaken for a famous black celebrity or actress constantly, restaurant owners will invite you to try their main dishes, bar owners will spoil you with drinks on the house, and private beach clubs will let you lounge on their property for as long you'd like.
The red carpet is truly laid out and whether I was accepting rides on luxury yachts or signing Serena Williams' autograph by the beach (true story, he was a kid and I couldn't say no while his parents were watching), then your days are made quite nicely.
In Montenegro, they treat you like royalty, and got damn it, you are. You're magical, divine, and every bit worthy of being appreciated and not judged prematurely as a threat.
[Tweet "Black people, you are... worthy, divine, appreciated, and more."]
While these experiences will come with its fair share of people asking for selfies, understand that it'll still be far more enjoyable, because they're people who feel honored by your existence, not threatened by it.
And that makes the world of a difference.
While I have two younger, but grown brothers back home, and a future family to raise one day, the idea of permanently living abroad is sounding more and more likely.
So I'll continue scouting as many black-friendly cities around the world as possible, and to the black community back in America, stay strong, stay safe, and stay ready to move, because sometimes, enough is enough.
Black friends, see you on the other side -- where we matter, and stuff ;)
What has your travel experience been like? Have other cultures readily embraced you? Share your stories in the comment section below!
While I’m the first to encourage my fellow African-Americans to spread them transatlantic wings to hop across the pond and join me in Europe, there’s a part that I’m always hesitant to open up about when it comes to the reality of our existence in some parts of the world.
And while I can’t speak for every black woman, nor every country’s views, I can share my experiences, my observations, and my discoveries, in hopes that it can prepare and even educate fellow black women as to something that is far too common, and yet, beyond our control.
Sorry to build the suspense, but I have to contextualize this, because again, I was so oblivious to it at first, that when it happened, I was so shocked, disgusted, and confused. And a bit saddened as well.
Toledo, Spain
Because when you’re so used to doing everything to control the perception others have of you, and then having that “power” taken away from you for the simple fact that you’re in a city or region where people that have your skin color, are usually prostitutes, it’s a hard pill to swallow. Yes, that’s right.
I was mistaken for a prostitute.
Not just once. But dozens of times. And I’ve honestly lost count.
The first time it happened, I was in Spain.
The second time, The Czech Republic.
The third time, Albania.
And before the cynics begin to question what I was wearing, it didn’t matter. I was clothed, covered, and respectable. Whether that be in a long, flowing skirt or in jeans and a peacoat, there are just some regions of the world who see black skin on a woman, and assume that the only way I was able to afford to get there and stay there, was by way of selling my body to a local. This way of thinking isn’t born overnight. It’s taught and it’s engrained by what’s happened in the past.
Costa Brava, Spain
In Barcelona, my favorite city in Europe (and that’s extremely biased as I got to call it home for a year), I soon learned that there were certain streets I just couldn’t walk down at a certain hour, even as “early” as 8PM.
One time I was with my German friend leaving a restaurant, and he was walking me back to the train station on the famous La Rambla street, and one by one we’re met with these strange looks that I can’t quite describe. It was a mix between a look of congratulations to my friend and a look of dirtiness to me. We pass police officers who mutter something along the lines of “good job” in Catalan, while looking towards my German friend, and seemingly scaling me up and down as if imagining what Nicki Minaj moves I had in my repertoire. My friend and I look at each other, mutually sensing the discomfort of the situation, but still wondering why we were attracting such strange expressions. And this was one of my closest friends while in Barcelona, strictly platonic, and now incredibly awkward.
I start becoming self-conscious and more observant of everyone around us, wondering why we were getting so much attention. And then I lock eyes with what looked like a West-African (specifically, Nigerian) woman. She stares me up and down, then looks at my German friend, eyeballs his crotch area, then looks at me again and mutters something to her friend nearby. It’s now clear they were prostitutes, and they’ve mistaken me as their “competition” and crossing into their territory. By now, we’ve made our way off the main strip of La Rambla, and off to the smaller sidewalk, because the attention became too much.
And then we notice a trend. Every 100 feet or so, there’s a new African woman, claiming her spot/corner and giving me the same “jealous” glare as if they’re mad I had found a “customer” for the night, while they were still out there harassing every man that passed them by. The worst part is, they did look like me. And I looked like them.
You see, most African prostitutes in Europe don’t exactly dress like prostitutes do. They wear coats, scarves, sweaters, and jeans. Just like me. Therefore, making us almost indistinguishable. I was an empty corner away from looking like one of them, and the embarrassment was enough to keep me away from that street past dark for the remainder of my time in Barcelona.
I tried hard to forget about that night, and my friend and I only talked about it once over coffee, before agreeing to pretend it never happened. It was awkward. To have a friend walk down a street for 15 minutes under the assumption that you, his good friend, was purchased for the night. I don’t walk around flashing my college degree, credentials, or achievements on my arms, but the fact that I couldn’t and didn’t really know how to defend myself, was something new. I was embarrassed. A type of embarrassed that leaves you speechless and unsure how to vent or open up about it with friends.
Madrid, Spain
Another time while I was out and about exploring the city, I arrive at a small intersection where I see a car coming.When I’m in no hurry, I’m always very laxed about letting cars just go in front of me, and depending on where you are, most of them do anyway. But I see him slowing down, and encourage him to press the gas again, and do a motion with my hand that waves him through to carry onwards. But he instead brakes even harder so that his passenger window is right in front of me, winds down his window, and excitedly asks me in Spanish how much I charge, soon motioning that he didn’t even care, to just hop in the car anyway, reaching over to open the door.
The shock hit me so hard again, I felt like someone just punched my gut. I *accidentally* kicked his car and walked around him and crossed the street. My Spanish/Catalan was so bad at that time, that I hadn’t taught myself how to be angry in a foreign language yet. And God knows that was probably for the best. Jesus took that wheel.
And as much as I try to forget it happened. It soon happened again in Seville, Spain. And then in Prague, Czech Republic, and then in Gjirokastra, Albania. And several other cities, towns, and villages around Europe. And being here now in Cyprus, I was reminded yet again, that this is just a part of my solo travel experience that I have to accept. Because it’s happened again.
Kyrenia, Cyprus
The other day I met a lovely lady from The Philippines who’s the pastor of a church here who told me about their worship service happening in a few minutes. She wanted to prepare a few things and had her husband walk me to where the church was located.
Sidenote: After traveling for so long, you start to develop a spirit of discernment, and I knew from the sound of their voices and the joy in their heart from finding a “sister in Christ” that I was in good hands.
So her husband and I start walking down the main street and heading for the church. He was probably in his early 60’s, and since the wife was off picking up some things, there we were. An older man, with a 20-something old black woman, and immediately, the heads are turning, I’m hearing mutters, and on this narrow street lined with bars and restaurants of hundreds of people sitting outside facing towards the street, we soon become the center of attention. And by the looks of their faces, it was not for anything good.
There is nothing more embarrassing than the thought of someone thinking you were just “purchased”.
I knew what everyone thought, and my jolly new friend, oblivious to it all, is telling me about his journey of being a born again Christian, and how much God has worked miracles in his life. And there I was, instead of rejoicing with him in his victories, allowing my human side to take over, and I put my head down, trying to avoid all the stares and mutters we were receiving. It was different than the stares I got when I was by myself exploring Cyprus. People smiled and waved, and even chimed in a few times with, Welcome to Cyprus! It was beautiful. But it was about 8PM this time. And all I saw were judgmental faces.
We soon arrived to the church and I’m greeted by a cheerful group of Filipinos, Sri Lankans, and Africans who are so delighted to see a new face in their church. But the walk I made to get there was too much for me to handle at the time, and I was still trying to process it all. I honestly just wanted to break down and cry and run back to the comforts and confinements of my hotel. I wasn’t in the mood to serve or sing, although that was probably the exact type of environment I needed to be in, but I was tired of going through that same worthless strut that had followed me in far too many cities around Europe.
But writing is my form of healing. And just like my Prague experience, I’m slowly but surely teaching myself that I simply cannot control others’ perceptions of me. Despite my accomplishments, despite my education, despite what I’ve overcome to get where I am today, if they’re accustomed to associating my skin color with those of prostitutes, then I simply can’t let that get to me.
Cliffs of Moher, Ireland
Their ignorance is NOT my problem.
So while I want nothing more than my fellow African-American women to go out and explore this beautiful world around us, on their own if they can, please do be prepared and aware that this might be your experience too.
I’ve been traveling around Europe cumulatively for almost 1,000 days since 2012, and that’s been filled with beautiful encounters, cultural exchanges, and inspiring conversations.
So these moments definitely make up the minority of my experience. And it’s important to remember that while we can’t change the perception of black women in these countries overnight, we can do our best to increase our presence, as everyday tourists, worthy of respect and not lazy assumptions about how we afforded to get there in the first place.
Limassol, Cyprus
And know that these problems aren’t exclusive to these cities and countries, nor is the prostitution label exclusive to black women, because it really depends on the history of foreign women in that area.
And if a fellow African-American female traveler went abroad for the first time and experienced this, I can at least feel good about letting her know that she is not alone and it’s completely out of her control.
So while I wrote this as more of a therapeutic way for me to cope, I also hope it enlightened some of you all too.
Thanks for listening.
Originally posted on The Blog Abroad.
Gloria Atanmo is an American Travel Blogger and Digital Storyteller at TheBlogAbroad.com where she recounts her experiences from traveling for over 1,000 days. With 30+ countries under her belt, she hopes to continue educating, empowering, and inspiring others to get out and explore the beautiful world around us.