My long-term goal was to build financial independence as a freelance writer. I had been writing online articles and interviews at work, and I had just published my first feature story in a local magazine. After a year of night school to complete a Certificate in Feature Writing, seeing my first feature story in print was motivating to say the least.

I set up in Blogger which was free and simple to use. I had the option of placing Google AdSense on my blog, but I decided not to because it didn’t fit into my goals at that time. I landed in San José, Costa Rica and had forgotten that I had inquired here and there about teaching English until on day two I received a message inviting me to an interview. Though hesitant to start a new job right away, I took the position teaching business English in a local financial institution convinced I’d have enough free time to write and to explore my new surroundings.

Just three months later in May 2008, I published my first travel feature in the Central American newspaper, The Tico Times. Writing content for websites followed as did numerous opportunities to write hotel reviews and real estate feature stories. I was on fire!

In March 2009, I started handing out my new business card. After a lot of thought, I decided to go with the working title “Writer. Blogger. Traveler.” At the bottom of the card I listed creative copywriting, web content, freelance travel, hotel reviews, profiles, features and corporate communication as my areas of expertise. I didn’t want to limit myself so early in the game.

In May 2009, I had an unsettling conversation with one of my students who out of the blue said his lawyer told him not to talk to a journalist. I explained that I was really more of a “writer” with a passion for travel and that I didn’t see myself as an “investigative journalist.” Classes continued.

I have a B.A. in Communication and a B.A. in Political Science with a regional specialization in Latin America. And I remember quite well from my studies the heavy burden journalists carry in this oft-volatile part of the world. Even though I was at that time a member of the Society of Professional Journalists (I need to renew my membership), I considered myself more in the vague category of “writer” since I wasn’t working a regular beat for a news organization.

In August 2009, I moved my blog into WordPress, became a member of the Blogher publishing network, started to grow my Twitter network and was busy applying tips from Nomadic Matt’s eBook entitled How to Make Money With Your Travel Blog. I also added my first sponsor to my blog’s home page who paid me US$25 a month for the link. My dreams were coming true!

In March of this year, I made a new business card. The working title reads “Writer and Social Media Consultant.” I’m experimenting with ways to highlight the social media side of things.

Two weeks ago I went on a hike with a group and when responding to the question “What do you do?” I said, “I’m a writer.” One person responded, “You’re not a journalist?” Another person responded by asking, “So, do you write poetry?”

Who am I? As modes of communication take new and exciting turns and as more and more people take the freelance route, I wonder how working titles will evolve. Or, perhaps they will just grow. Here are a few working titles I’ve come across lately:

Freelance property writer, copywriter, journalist, blogger
Writer, journalist, blogger
Author, journalist, blogger, and periodic talk radio host

To all of you running blogs out there, how do you answer the question “What do you do?” and what kind of responses do you get?

I’m not often moved by yoga-speak. When I hear about aligning my chakras or a more esoteric call to “release my inner child,” I feel alienated. This instructor’s words were simple and real: “This is your life.” The location was paradise. Combined with the close connection to nature the outdoor studio allotted, the entire experience gifted new insights, and not simply escapism.

Not all dogs in Costa Rica have it so easy. Read my previous post about Costa Rican artist Francisco Munguía’s street dog exhibit in downtown San Jose.

The ad says: “Bog about Cambodia’s unique findings before going on-board.”

I’d say that inviting people to share their experiences in the growing networked public sphere as they fly out shows a lot of confidence in what the country has to offer. What do you think?

I have an 8-megapixel digital camera small enough to fit into my pant pocket. I don’t take a lot of photographs and I rarely spend time trying to achieve just the right composition. I see something that catches my eye and I quickly pull out my camera and shoot. This way I can capture one of life’s moments while still remaining a participant. Just like the surprises spontaneity grants, candid photography allows you to capture something outside of the anticipated.
While I was crossing the bridge to Angkor Thom within the temple-city of Angkor Wat in Cambodia the other day, I saw three Korean girls photographing each other kissing one of the Buddha statues. Sometimes it’s just as interesting watching the other tourists as it is admiring the monuments.

I was drawn to one of the far corners of Bayon temple by the sound of a sweet and melancholic voice, which echoed throughout the stone courtyard. There was one other tourist nearby reading a book. Despite her public performance, the young girl seemed completely uninterested in her audience.

Tuk-Tuk is the best way to explore the hundreds of temples spread throughout the ancient city of Angkor Wat. Between temples our driver stopped at one of the many roadside filler stations which dot Cambodian roads. Petrol is stored in glass Pepsi bottles and stored under a large umbrella. Even though there may not be a formal gas station for kilometers, this system makes it easy to fill up your moto or tuk-tuk even in the most remote areas.

In my raincoat negligee, a term coined by my friend Thomas (who snapped this shot with my camera), I held an umbrella over Tony while he photographed the stunningly detailed stone carvings at the Bantei Shrei temple. Don’t miss Tony’s amazing pictorial of Angkor from ContemporaryNomad.com here.

Then and now

At its height, the ancient temple-city of Angkor Wat was one of the great powers of Southeast Asia with a population of more than one million. A short but interesting animated video in Cambodia’s National Museum in Phnom Penh recreates what it must have been like in the city during its heyday. Described as a “hydraulic city” because of its sophisticated aqueduct system, ancient Angkor is depicted within an agriculturally rich landscape. The stone structures were reserved for the Cambodian God-kings while wooden houses gave shelter to ordinary citizens. The video shows people working in the rice fields, walking past temples set within a lush yet tame landscape and paddling in dugout canoes along the waterways. Fast forward ahead seven centuries where one million no longer live in the city, but millions visit every year.

When I first told my family and friends that I was going to Cambodia, they were surprised and concerned. “There are millions of landmines over there,” shouted my dad. He wasn’t exaggerating. In fact, it’s estimated that there are two to three million active landmines throughout Cambodia. On top of that, it didn’t help that the day after I announced my departure a two-page feature story about a malaria outbreak in southern Cambodia appeared in one of San Diego, California’s local newspapers, picked up from the Associated Press.

Alas, there I was perusing an elegant list of spa services while sipping green tea in a cool, dark-wood welcome area. After a relaxing spa pedicure complete with a reflexology foot massage and a paraffin treatment, the tuk tuk I hired for the day drove me to the waterfront. Lined with a mix of indoor and outdoor restaurants, bars and cafes, the waterfront is where you can find a lot of the capital’s entertainment, featuring the Pussycat Club on one corner and the Foreign Correspondents Club (FCC) on the other.

I met up with my friends on the second floor of a swank open-air café called Touk. We ordered a happy hour beer for 80 cents and leaned back into the deep, cushioned armchairs. A mix of locals, tourists and expats occupied the tables and bar stools facing the water. Some sipped glasses of wine while others indulged in the typical umbrella-clad cocktails. A cool breeze flowed in from the Tonle Sap River rustling the potted palms. The Pussycat Dolls were playing.

At that moment I realized the irony of traveling to Cambodia for pleasure has faded away for many people. I guess the only irony now is that thirty years later the Dead Kennedys’ ironic song title is now used to initiate small talk around the country.

The Khmer Rouge revolution crippled Cambodia for three years, eight months and twenty five days. Pol Pot, a name associated with unspeakable atrocities, was known as Brother No 1 in the regime. In an attempt to completely restructure Cambodian society into a peasant-dominated agrarian cooperative, the Khmer Rouge purged the country of its intellectuals and perceived opponents. Many of their remains now sit enshrined within a tall glass tower tucked inside of a small temple.

“There was a lot of corruption and inequality,” said a guide who led me on a private museum tour. The Khmer Rouge “wanted the rich and poor to be equal, so we were all sent into the countryside to work, but equal meaning we would all be slaves!”

“The people who survived took care of their mouth,” said my guide. “My brother couldn’t lie. He said he was a police, and he was killed.”

The Khmer Rouge slogan: “clearing grasses, it shall dig its entire root off,” justified the slaughter of entire families to avoid revenge in later life. My guide considered herself a lucky survivor. There are different estimates about how many people died during this period. According to the recent United States Department of State-funded Yale Cambodian Genocide Project, the total death toll stands between 1.2 million and 1.7 million. To put those figures into perspective, the population of Cambodia was eight million.

Raw and un-sanitized, the Chheung Ek Killing Field brings you into an uncomfortable intimacy with the atrocity. While time has sealed the mass graves, the memory lives on with the hope of never seeing history repeat itself.
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Setting off in the maxi-van this sunny morning, I cruise south on the infamous Highway 101. Virtually traffic-free, I share the road with other cars and bikers. Lending a bit of truth to the stereotypical SoCal image, the cobalt-blue Pacific frames manicured palms and homes topped with terracotta tiles. My right arm rests on the wheel as I gently tap the gas and brake pedal never exceeding the 40 mph speed limit. No rush.

Turning onto the freeway, speeds double along with my sense of freedom. Wide open spaces invite adventure like galloping horseback across an open field. The dry landscape reminiscent of an Old West movie set invites chance. Anything seems possible!

A road trip is an art form — embracing spontaneity you can paint your own unscripted adventure. The saying “it’s the journey as much as the destination” could not be truer on the road.

I have to admit that I have taken some pretty fun road trips in Central America! Read about part of my drive across Panama here.

One of my favorite mental escapes in San Diego is the Torrey Pines State Reserve in La Jolla, California. Like Alice down the rabbit-hole, windy trails lead you through a natural fairyland. Embattled sandstone cliffs relate earth’s memoir. Torrey pines, the rarest pine in the United States, twists into bonsai-like shapes to the backdrop of deep-blue Pacific waters and curvy mountains.

All of your senses are put on alert. Quail, rabbit and coyote tracks decorate the paths. Crickets sing, squirrels whistle and seals bark. The odiferous pines compete with the strong scent of coastal sage scrub and the salty Pacific. Stopping to rub the prickly chaparral plants spices your fingers.

Much like traveling, sensory-rich environments plant you in the now while freeing your imagination from traditional constructs. They are places to calm the mind and to incite creativity. The good news is that, unlike what many define as traveling, these places are not always found in distant lands.

See a beautiful sunset photo of the San Diego coastline from Torrey Pines State Reserve at Contemporary Nomad.

Learn more about the park at torreypine.org

Have you explored Torrey Pines State Reserve? What do you think about it?

Whenever I walk around downtown San José, Costa Rica, I’m always amazed that there are not only people using the payphones, but often they are lining up in front of them. Some of the payphones are coin operated while others function with calling cards. Traveling around Costa Rica, I’ve gotten into the habit of carrying around change (Change is a hot commodity in Costa Rica. Read previous post here.) as well as a tarjeta telefónica, a calling card in English.

The government telecommunications monopoly known as the Instituto Costarricense de Electricidad, or ICE (pronounced ee-say) is just starting to open up to outside competition which will expand cell phone service. In the meantime, public payphones around the country will be put to good use. (The CIA World Factbook ranks Costa Rica in the 122nd position out of 222 countries given the total number of cell phone subscribers. Nicaragua is at 109 and Panama 95.)

Last July, La Nación newspaper reported that there are 22, 240 payphones throughout the country accounting for 5% of calls made in the country. Unfortunately, an astonishing 15% are vandalized monthly. (Read the La Nación Spanish article here.)

Public payphones have become one of the signatures of community life. While I embrace change as cell phones phase out the need for public phones, it would be nice to keep these public fixtures alive ― even if this means finding non-traditional ways of maintaining this traditional service.

Have you seen any interesting ways public payphones are being integrated into public life?