Let’s (NOT) be honest. Most travel advice is written by people who seem to have been born with a perfectly packed suitcase and an innate ability to say “hello” in 17 languages. This is not that. This is for the rest of us—the glorious messes who consider it a win if we make it to the airport with pants on.
This is your guide to traveling badly, but happily.
Phase 1: The “Inspired” Planning Stage (Otherwise Known as Procrastination)
Your journey begins not with a passport stamp, but with a deep, hours-long dive into the digital abyss. This is where you’ll spend 90% of your travel time, and you haven’t even left your couch.
Your first stop is undoubtedly Google. It’s the modern-day oracle, answering profound questions like “best places to travel” and “is it illegal to sleep in a rental car?” Next, you’ll head to Pinterest for a cascade of impossibly perfect photos that will simultaneously inspire you and make you question your entire existence. Look at these people! They’re not just visiting waterfalls; they’re communing with them, usually while wearing a flowing white dress. Who packs a flowing white dress?
For the cold, hard truth, you must consult the holy scripture of tourist complaints: TripAdvisor. This is where you learn that a hotel’s “rustic charm” is code for “there might be a goat in the lobby” and a restaurant’s “authentic local flavor” means “you will be intimately acquainted with the bathroom for 48 hours.”
Pro Tip: When using Google Flights, always search in incognito mode. The airlines can smell your desperation, and the prices will magically inflate like a life raft you’re suddenly desperate to need.
Phase 2: The Packing Panic
This is a sacred ritual of laying everything you own on your bed and realizing you have the fashion sense of a startled octopus. The universal rule? Lay out all your clothes and all your money. Now pack half the clothes and twice the money.
Your essential packing list:
- Clothes (optional, but highly recommended by most civilizations).
- A universal power adapter that has more arms than a Hindu deity.
- Your passport. (Seriously. Don’t forget this. Frame a photo of it and keep it in your wallet as a reminder.)
- A sense of humor. This is your most vital tool. You will need it when you try to use the adapter and it shoots sparks like a miniature villain from a sci-fi movie.
Phase 3: The Social Media Circus
You’ve arrived! Now comes the critical task of proving to everyone back home that you’re having a better time than you actually are.
Instagram is your curated gallery. This is for the single, perfect shot of your coffee with a scenic backdrop, carefully angled to crop out the pile of trash and the arguing couple just to your left. For the real, unvarnished chaos—like the video of you trying to order food by making animal sounds—that’s pure TikTok gold. It’s a digital cry for help, and the algorithm loves it.
When you need to broadcast your “enlightenment” to your entire family network, that’s a job for Facebook. It’s where your Aunt Linda will comment “So cultured!” under a photo of you drinking a beer. For a truly unhinged experience, complain about your flight delay on X (formerly Twitter), publicly shaming the airline until they offer you a free bag of peanuts as a peace offering.
And for when you want to feel professionally relevant while sipping a coconut on a beach, you can post a think-piece about “The Agile Methodology of Backpacking” on LinkedIn. You’ll get congratulatory comments from recruiters who are definitely not judging you.
Phase 4: On the Ground & In the Wild
This is where the theoretical becomes a hilarious, messy reality.
Surviving the Local Fauna: Monkeys are not cute photo props; they are furry, agile pirates. I once saw a monkey in Ubud not only steal a tourist’s entire bag of peanuts but also open a YouTube app on the stolen phone to watch videos of other monkeys. Guard your belongings like your dignity depends on it.
The Art of Getting Lost: This is a mandatory part of the experience. Wandering aimlessly is how you find the real treasure: the tiny, nameless restaurant run by a grandmother who just points at you and starts cooking. It will be the most delicious, unidentifiable meal of your life. When you finally need rescue, Google Maps will be your digital savior.
Communication Breakdown: Learn a few key phrases: “Hello,” “Thank you,” and “I am sorry, I do not understand.” If all else fails, resort to interpretive dance. Need to find a bathroom after that spicy grandmother-food? A universal squatting gesture combined with a pained expression is understood in every language.
Phase 5: The Glorious Return & Digital Legacy
You’re home. You’re jet-lagged, you have a suitcase full of dirty clothes, and your bank account looks like it’s been through a war.
Now, it’s time to face the 3,000 photos on your phone. You’ll spend an entire weekend sorting through them on your Google Photos or Apple Photos cloud, reliving the moments that seemed magical at the time but are actually just 200 slightly different pictures of the same cathedral.
Then, the storytelling begins. You’ll regale your friends on WhatsApp groups with your monkey mugging story. You’ll post your one decent photo on Facebook for the final round of validation. And you’ll spend hours on Reddit reading about other people’s travel disasters, feeling a deep sense of camaraderie.
The Final, Unbreakable Rule
The true goal of travel isn’t to get the perfect Instagram shot. It’s to collect stories that get funnier with every retelling. It’s about the humility of being a clueless outsider and the joy of a simple, shared smile with a stranger. It’s about learning that you can, in fact, survive getting hopelessly lost and that the best plans are the ones that fall apart.
Now, stop reading and go get gloriously, wonderfully lost. And when you need a reminder of how to do it badly, come back and find us.
P.S. Want more tips on how to be a beautifully incompetent hoptraveler? Follow the chaos on Facebook for daily misadventures, or get your daily dose of visual cringe over on Instagram. Your next great story is waiting!