my favorite jacket at airport security in Tallinn, Estonia. The only way to get it back was through a courier service, and the only way to pay the courier service was through wire transfer. And this all had to happen in the four days before I left the Baltics — courier services like DHL that delivered outside the region cost a fortune.
My bank’s transfer fees exceeded the cost (and sentimental value) of the jacket. So I did a bunch of research and stumbled upon TransferWise, an app that allowed me to wire money with negligible fees and a great exchange rate. Or so I thought.
The TransferWise fees were low, but I’d used a Citibank credit card as the payment method, and to my card’s computer brain, that transfer was a cash advance, requiring a hefty fee, plus interest — which added up to pretty much what my bank would have charged.
I still love TransferWise and have used it for everything from booking independent tour guides to paying off speeding tickets. As soon as I linked the app to my debit card (your bank account would also work), the high fees went away, and I’ve been happy ever since.
And sadly, Citibank isn’t the only credit card company that codes TransferWise transactions as cash advances or ATM visits, even though they should be coded as an online payment service, like PayPal. When I called Citibank, armed with that information, they couldn’t (or wouldn’t) reverse the fees they’d charged. If you’re squeamish about using a debit card, TransferWise also offers a borderless account where you can load money and get personalized local bank details in over 30 countries. That means people in the UK, for instance, could send you British pounds that you could then convert to US dollars at a real exchange rate. There’s even a TransferWise debit card you can use to spend money in any currency.
7. Sacrificing for Status
You’d think that after this trip, I’d get to walk onto planes right after people with small children and members of the military. The erratic nature of my travel, though, meant I was flying on a different airline for each leg. The prices were better for small airlines unaffiliated with big loyalty programs — Air Baltic, AirAsia, Rwandair. And they were often the best, and sometimes only, way to get to all my random destination. I actually lost my Gold status on American Airlines this year.
It doesn’t bother me that much. I’ve never flown in a class higher than Economy Plus, which I think helps stave off disappointment — I can’t miss what I don’t know. I use SeatGuru to choose a spot that will maximize my legroom and try to make sure I have a window seat (better for sleep, plus I love gazing outside). Then I throw on compression socks, leggings and a wireless bra for comfort, and stick in noise-canceling earbuds, and I’m ready to sleep from takeoff to landing. Long-term travel has taught me the joys of checking a bag — it rarely gets lost, I don’t have to drag it around the airport, and everything important is in my carry-on — so the order I get on the plane doesn’t matter.
As for hotels, I knew that staying at boutique properties was going to cost me points, but honestly, I would have gone nuts staying in chains for an entire year. Some of my best days were spent writing in lovingly decorated lobbies, or chatting with owners who’d spent years pouring their life savings into building their hotels with passion and a deep desire to host people. As mentioned above, there can be financial advantages to going small: owners who are willing to negotiate rates and nongeneric restaurants with chefs who care, which will save you money and time from traveling further afield in search of food. Often in small hotels, I’d find a free minibar filled with carefully curated snacks. A gorgeous riverside lodge, The Weasku Inn, in Rogue River, Oregon, served afternoon hors d’oeuvres so delicious and plentiful I was able to skip dinner, plus it was a great way to meet other guests. My breakfast at the Parkhotel Laurin in Bolzano, Italy, was so decadent, with an incredible cheese spread and fresh orange juice, among so many other delights, that I could skip lunch.
It’s certainly easier to maximize points and perks from big-brand bookings, but when you’re traveling for a long time, that monotony can be draining and depressing. I was never lonelier than when staying somewhere corporate. Paying a little more on boutique hotels I’m sure saved me in psychotherapy bills later.
I may never hack the system well enough to fly business class and stay at five-star resorts, but as long as I can use the points I do have to get more tickets to see more places, I’ll be ecstatic.