Doing the startup thing from weird places around the world - Colin Plamondon

There’s something addictive about travel- something intensely fresh about arriving somewhere new, somewhere unknown, somewhere with no expectations, not knowing a soul, not knowing the language, and just enjoying the change. Fumbling with the currency, making a change of plans, and seeing how things go.

At the same time, it’s also great to simply be. To have a place that’s comfortable with a group of friends, places to hang out, and knowing where everything is. It’s nice, it’s known.

It’s like deciding whether or not to try new restaurant, where the food could be amazing or terrible, or a known restaurant, where you know how good the food is. It’s not exciting, but you know exactly what you’re going to get.

When I first got to Buenos Aires I thought I would travel around, doing the backpacking thing. Or, at least that’s what I’d set my heart on while watching A Map For Saturday on the flight down, before I left I’d already arranged for an apartment on Craigslist.

Getting in, I’m overwhelmed- it’s my first time traveling somewhere where English isn’t a given. And, sure enough, I need to get a power adapter because my cell phone had run out of power– which a bit of a problem with the whole using your phone as an iPod and movie player on the whole flight down…thing. I ask at the front desk of the hostel where to get a power adapter and am told which way to go. The first one I see is a kinda dingy looking hardware store, but it has power adapters, so in I go.

A guy is sitting in the front, an intimidating looking, bald, bodybuilder type talking on his cell phone. As I walk in he followed, and it turns out he works in the shop, and he seems to be a bit annoyed that I interrupted his call. I get nowhere with my tiny knowledge of Spanish and wind up drawing out the type of adapter I needed- he nods and wordlessly picks out an adapter. “Four pesos.” he states, with finality, fixing me with a stare. I get out my wallet and pay, thank him, and head back to the hostel- only to try plugging in the adapter and realize that I’ve gotten the wrong kind. Turns out there were two kinds of plugs- one works just fine with plugs from the US. The entire thing was a non-issue from the beginning.

After figuring that out, I cancel on the apartment I’d arranged and book for a week at the hostel- I only have twenty pesos left after the taxi from the airport, though, so I need to go get cash. No worries. I ust head to the ATM and get some.

Except… my card got rejected.

I went to another ATM.

Rejected.

And another.

Rejected.

Each time, the same thing- card can’t be read. Which is especially freaky, because my card is beaten up as hell- most of the ATMs in San Francisco hadn’t been able to read it because the magnetic strip is so banged up, so I’d always used the Washington Mutual ATMs, which could. And I hadn’t replaced it. Which brings up a pretty worrisome thought- what if no Argentinean ATMs can read it?

Shit.

I try another half dozen ATMs, nada, zip, zero.

Rejected, rejected, rejected, rejected, rejected, rejected.

At this point I’m inwardly panicking- in a foreign country, no way to get money out, need to pay for a hostel and somewhere to sleep. The hostel only takes cash, hell, everywhere seems to just take cash- card readers appear to be a luxury.  I start going through what-ifs, none of which are happy, envisioning worst case scenarios, all of which are worst-case, all until I realize the obvious answer.

Call the damn bank!

I go to a locotorio and buy a phone card, now down to ten pesos. I call the bank and right away am told cheerfully that my account was blocked for suspected fraud.

Oops!

Turns out that withdrawing cash in San Francisco, Washinton Dulles, and then Buenos Aires is a red flag, who’d a thunk it? The girl at the fraud department asks some questions, unblocks, and, sure enough, when I go to get money… it works! Wheee! Three hundred pesos, and life is good.

That first day felt like an adventure, even just getting money out. Then, the night of, hanging out in the courtyard of the hostel and eating pizza with people from all over the world, hearing about their travels, and just shooting the shit. The next night, going to a steakhouse, having the biggest steak of my life and going to Plaza Serrano for drinks afterwards… the entire thing felt unreal, everything brand new. Even getting a cab was exciting as the driver weaved in and out of traffic, going three times as fast as sanity would permit, with two too many of us crammed in the back.

But you know what? It was fun. The entire thing. Even when I was freaking out about the ATM, in the back of my head, it was still fun, because it felt new. It felt like an adventure. But, after three weeks in Buenos Aires, everything felt normal. Going to Plaza Serrano, going out for steak dinner, hanging out on the waterfront, meeting people from all over, going to tango clubs and drum concerts… it was all normal. It was still fun, but it was normal. So I headed off to Mendoza. That’s a story of it’s own, but I felt like I needed something new.

Now that I’m in Koh Tao, I’m again torn. Going out to the pier on the back of a truck sitting on a bench installed in the back, jungle all around, sun beaming through the leaves, it no longer conjures up images of Indiana Jones… it’s just going diving on Koh Tao. It’s normal. Driving home from Echo Bar at night, wind whistling by, the heavens opening up into a torrential downpour as I get to the bottom of the hill, it’s normal. After two months here, I expect it. I enjoy it, but it’s normal.

In the midst of this normalcy I’m tugged in directions all over the world. On the one hand, a part of me wants to stay here on Koh Tao for six months. Still another wants to head off to an island here that has rock climbing and even cheaper bungalows. Still another looks back wistfully at my time in Buenos Aires and wants to move back. Then the rest pulls me everywhere from Istanbul to Rio to Melbourne.

There’s no rush, but, at the same time, the pull of the new is strong. Whatever I wind up going with, I’m here on Koh Tao for another couple months to finish my Divemaster training. From then on, who kows?  I might have to film a rock climbing video

I never cease to be amazed at both the enormity of the world and at the flatness of it- in the most pop nonfictional sense of the word.

To be totally honest, before starting to travel I was still somewhat taken with many of the ideas espoused by the media in America, that have since propogated to the point of becoming “common sense”. It’s dangerous in South America, there are health risks everywhere in Southeast Area, language issues, cultural issues, political issues (thanks Dubya!), and any one of a dozen other potential problems.

After all, other countries don’t really show up in the American media unless something is blowing up or on fire and about to blow up.

Yet, shockingly enough, it turns out that differences trend towards minute. English is the language everyone in the middle at, fulfilling Esperanto’s dream of a worldwide auxiliary language more effectively than any synthetic linguistic construct. It’s not uncommon for a German to start up a conversation with a Chilean in English- the German doesn’t know Spanish and the Chilean sure as hell doesn’t know German, but damn if they can’t meet in the middle at English.

Language is pretty much a nonissue. Cry culture imperialism if you want, but that’s the way the world works, and, as a native English speaker, I’m certainly not complaining.

Then you have cultural differences- again, cry cultural imperialism if you want, but most people grow up watching the same movies (Hollywood), listening to the same music (Warner, Sony, EMI, etc), and watching the same TV shows (whatever trash MTV is peddling as entertainment this week). The amount of cultural bedrock we all have in common, and I mean we in the broadest sense of the word, is mindboggling.

Best example I can think of is from back in Buenos Aires- heading back to the hostel from dinner in a taxi, I was talking with a friend from Brasil about music. We listened to a lot of the same bands, pretentious indie ones, for the most part- and started talking about indie bands breaking into the mainstream. I mentioned Modest Mouse as an example, and, just then, their single “Missed the Boat” came on the radio.

In an Argentinean taxi.

With the taxi driver singing right along in broken English.

That is a flat world right there.

Another example, also from a taxi- one night I’d been working late at a Italian restaurant near Obelisco and hailed a cab coming out. Getting in, the taxi driver turned and asked with a slight manic glean in his eye…

“Frank Sinatra?”

“Como?”, I asked, not understanding.

He asked again, this time pointing at the radio- “Frank Sinatra?”

Getting it, I replied in my embarrasingly awful Spanish, “uh… oh! Uh… muy bien, muy bien!”

He smiled, turned the radio on, and suddenly Frank Sinatra was blaring on the radio. He rolled down the windows, turned again, and let out, in his best Mario voice, “leeeeeeeeet’s gooooo!”- and screeched off to head up Corrientes Avenue.

Whenever someone mentions Thailand being exotic, or Argentina as somewhere far-off and hard to imagine visiting, I can’t help but feel a bit guilty- because I know that the foreignness of foreign lands is greatly overestimated. The world is flat, the world is big, and travel is cheap. Might as well dive on in.

I just finished watching a TED talk a couple moments ago, presented by a Sir Ken Robinson. He spoke of creativity, overmedication, over-classification, and all the ways that the modern education system exists to put people in nice little boxes to be roughly snatched  up by the claws of corporate peasantry.

An example he gave was striking- a girl in elementary/primary school. Fidgety, unable to concentrate, distracting others. As Robinson said, classic ADHD, if only the affliction had been invented then. Her mother took the girl to the doctor and went through the laundry list of things that were wrong with her. The doctor turned on the radio, took the mother outside, and they watched. The girl stood up and started dancing in moments- the doctor suggested that she be put in dance school. That girl later went on to form her own company, choreograph Broadway productions, and become a multimillionaire.

Without that right environment, without the encouragement of her talents, without the freedom to explore, without the intervention of that doctor, it’s doubtful the same success would have resulted.

Earlier today I was working from a little cafe by the pier here on Koh Tao, a place by the name of Cafe de Sol. Free wifi with good connection speed, but right on the main drag coming out from the pier so it can be a bit busy at times. And, after struggling to figure out exactly how the hell to layout a website I’m working on, I decided to go.

Somewhere.

Not sure where.

Easy enough- tossed my laptop in my messenger bag, paid, hopped on my motorbike, and headed out. To the right lay the road to where I live and the drag I’m familiar with. To the left… well, I’d only headed out that way once, and had only gone part of the way. Easy enough decision.

So, blasting on down the road I was going up a hill, only blue sky ahead. Stretched as far as the eye can see- perfection. Warm, but wind whistling by, no traffic… just riding along. I came over the crest of the hill, and displayed ahead of me was a gorgeous expanse of jungle, dotted by scuba resorts, shoreline winding to my left. The so-called ‘greenbelts’ of suburbia drifted off into the ages- only the view ahead existed.

Heading onwards I got to the main tourist village I’d never been to, except that one time I’d headed down the road. It was clogged, so I headed back. This time it was all clear, so I went on through… and, heading out from the city, the road narrowed ever so slightly, the green of the jungle became more expansive, the sky more colorful as day drifted into dusk. Small buildings dotted the sides of the road, here and there a private road to a scuba resort, occasionally another motorbike would head on back behind me. For me, it was onwards, up and down the hills, new and different surroundings, new views, reaching a crest, to the left a perfect view of the ocean.

I reached the end of the road, where it turned to a single dirt road down… somewhere. It said no motorbikes, and I felt like driving, so I turned back. Dusk now turned to evening, the sky that luminous shade of darkness, the final light before we shifted into night. As I drove back the stars came out- and they were everywhere, shining brightly all about. I got dinner at a small restaurant on the way home. And, upon finishing my meal, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t feel like working, or going out. Didn’t really feel like talking or meeting people. Mostly, I felt like writing. Planning. Thinking. Most of all, just enjoying the beauty of the evening.

Hopping back on the bike and headed up a steep hill to the Sunset Bar- aptly named, as its perch high above the pier and various resorts lent it an all-encompassing view. The first time I walked up the short path from the parking to the bar my jaw dropped. This time, I just took it in. It was nighttime now, but there were no loudmouthed spring breakers here- just a couple talking quietly to one side a few people shooting the shit at the counter.

Getting a water I then walked to the wooden platform. on which the cushions and tables lay. noticed at the end of the platform a rock on which was a cushion, table, and hammock. Just a rock with a flat top, no railing, ahead lay all of Sairee Beach, above, the stars. Sitting back, I got out my journal, a pen, and my mp3 player. Putting on some fitting music (King Tut) I just looked out. It was hard to know what to write as a million thoughts went through my mind, all pointing to the singular fact that the moment was unrecordable. Words fail to describe the coastline, the barely visible outline of hills in the distance, the tourist village alight in the evening, the stars omnipresent, bright, looming, and everywhere.

So I thought for a moment, and everything fit together.

The day prior I’d read Chris Guillebeau’s A Brief Guide to World Domination (How to Live a Remarkable Life in a Conventional World)- short 30 page read, but packed with great ideas and great quotes. What I walked away with was the limiting nature of my current business concept, it’s lack of applicability to the world at large. We all live in a strange time- things seem to be falling apart at the hinges as the world changes at a faster and faster rate. Yet, the possibility to improve things  and better the world increases apace.

Looking out, pieces fell into place. Thoughts that had been rattling about, unrefined and undefined, suddenly came into a cohesive whole. And, looking at the ramifications of that fitting together, it became clear how a simple change could enable future growth in the startup, at once more beneficial, more important, more widespread, and more profitable. It came together in an instant, but I sat writing for an hour, writing through the different possibilities.

It was the environment that led to the sudden distillation- with the beauty and peace of that overlook it’s hard not to feel inspired. And, more than that, it was looking out and knowing that I was in Thailand, on the other side of the planet from where I’d left just a month and a half prior, somewhere new, and somewhere that feels less and less foreign by the day.

On my last day in Buenos Aires my friend Priscilla put it best as we grabbed ice-cream on Corrientes Avenue with my flight mere hours away. We were talking about travel, and she talked about how when she travels, she feels like she sees the world through childlike eyes- when everything becomes new, everything becomes interesting, less taken for granted- every brick of the cobblestone street becomes fascinating, every lurch of the ancient subway an adventure. She spoke of how she felt more open to meeting people, removed from the day to day it became ok to take chances, to see what happens, to live and let live.

Ever since that day, at once the watermark and capstone of my three months in Argentina, I’ve always thought about what Pri said… it seems like travel, more than anything else, opens the doors to the environment Ken Robinson spoke of. And, tonight, lounging out on a rock looking out at the coastline of Koh Tao, the childlike eyes of travel met the perfection of nature.