"Travel is fatal to prejuidce, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness <...>. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

The longtime dream

I have a long-standing dream: to travel the world — to visit every country, to meet different cultures, witness real happiness and real pain, and become a little wiser for it. That dream has been growing for years. Lately I've been taking deliberate steps toward a multi-year trip (if my body and stubbornness hold up). Every day I ask myself: what did I do today to make travel more possible?

Travel, in practice, is surprisingly simple. It doesn't strictly require money or connections — it needs health and an adventuresome spirit. I've already tried traveling with almost no money and intend to keep doing so; I won't give it up. With the arrogance of a twenty-year-old, I declare: I will travel with the same wild energy when I get old.

Still, I want to be prepared. Not to rush blindly, but also not to consign myself to misery. I'm studying now and sharpening professional skills so I won't have to panic about food on the road. If you carry a miserable mindset, you will be miserable everywhere — the external circumstances matter, but so does the internal state.

My inspiration for circumnavigating the globe did not come from influencers. It came from a lifelong love of cartography: I always imagined myself or my characters holding a map. I want this travelogue to be a record — notes, memoirs, filmed footage, and written entries. There is something special in that combination. The travelogue also needs a clean, timeless design; we'll build it as we go.

The world is not inherently cruel. Politicians wage wars; the news thrives on sensationalism and builds stereotypes. People, in general, are kind and curious. They treat travelers with interest and hospitality because you are a story to them. I learned this on a trip through the Altai: everyone warned me — parents, fellow travelers — about danger and hostility. In reality, Altai people picked me up, shared food, asked questions and cared. That was in Russia, where I spoke the same language and shared citizenship. Imagine how different you appear somewhere else, and how much openness and kindness can change your life.

Recently I sold most of my possessions — guitar, computer, other electronics — and used that small sum to buy practical gear for the journey. It is both practical and symbolic.

My plan

Approximate route of the trip, Eastern hemisphere

I have three large goals on this trip: to get from my hometown Orenburg to Bali; to travel from Kathmandu to Cape Town; and to go from Patagonia to Alaska. These are three long threads that will weave much of the route.

On lifestyle

Money

On the road, most spending goes to food. I plan to hitchhike and sleep in a tent, at hosts' places, via Couchsurfing (and alternatives like BeWelcome, Couchers, Trustroots), and occasionally in hostels. To pay for food, you don't need a fortune: work locally when necessary, pick up odd jobs, do intermittent remote freelance or salaried work, or monetize creative output. With careful planning, one month of work at an average wage can finance roughly three months of frugal travel.

Money is ultimately converted into human connection. Communication skills, clarity, negotiation, and charisma matter. People are willing to help those who present themselves respectfully and with honest intentions: a sincere smile, curiosity, and some social skill open many doors. Some travelers even arrange passage on freighters or tankers; ingenuity and politeness go a long way.

If you can work remotely, the arithmetic becomes even kinder: earning a European salary while living somewhere very cheap can make one month of work stretch across many months of travel. I happen to work in a field that allows remote income, so I expect to spend less time working and more time traveling — or to alternate periods of work and full-time travel.

A useful rule for a lean traveler: one month of earning should buy at least 2.5–3 months of travel. If not, reassess expenses. Often, work appears unexpectedly on the road: help a generous host and repay help with labor; the goodwill and reviews you earn on platforms like Couchsurfing increase future hospitality.

Minimalism, asceticism, clothing

I've optimized an ideal packing list through brainstorming and personal experience. The principle is simple: the fewer things, the better. Extreme minimalism maximizes mobility and social interaction. Still, presentability matters: a traveler who looks tidy gets more rides and more kindness than a person who looks like a mess. Carry only what you need every day — skip the umbrella for every possible rain, leave the heavy fitness gear at home.

I will photograph everything that fits into my around-the-world backpack and post that inventory. Two shirts, regular hand-washing, quick drying on the go: living light becomes routine. If something rips, buy a replacement; don't carry a sewing kit for months of uncertainty. Simplicity reduces friction.

Housing and hygiene

Where to sleep? My rule: travel within civilization — where there are people and electricity. No elaborate camping kit; the image is a roaming hobo with electronics in a small pack — a kind of digital nomad who prefers host couches to wilderness bivouacs. Primary options: hosts via Couchsurfing and similar platforms; if none, politely ask to rest in public buildings (schools, hospitals, churches, stations). A sleeping bag is a reliable fallback.

Workaway, Worldpackers, Helpx, and WWOOF offer food and housing in exchange for labor and are useful when you want cultural exchange and rest from constant movement — but don't get trapped in volunteering when paid work could be more efficient for your goals.

Hostels are everywhere; sometimes you can save by asking to sleep with your sleeping bag for a reduced rate. Often, talking to people yields invitations to stay in small towns — paradoxically, smaller places can be more hospitable than big cities.

Frequent hand-washing is the price of a light pack. Two T-shirts, washed and hung overnight, become daily ritual. If something is torn, replace it; don't lug a toolbox.

Movement

Hitchhiking is central: it's both transport and social practice. It lets you hear stories, help a driver pass time, and travel free. There are alternatives — trains, boats, local rides — and occasionally negotiated transport on cargo trains or small boats. Eloquence helps; if you can tell a story, you will travel farther.

A compact backpack (35 L) increases your chances of being picked up. A yoga mat or foam pad strapped on signals "traveler," which paradoxically makes drivers more likely to stop.

I once planned a motorcycle tour; that plan still exists, but for now maximum interaction and economy mean moving primarily on foot and via lifts.

Food

Four spending categories: transport, visas, gear, food. Food is the regular cost. I carry an electric immersion heater (small and light) and a 500 ml metal mug so I can make hot porridge, tea, or instant meals anywhere there's a socket. Hot drinks are psychological fuel: they bring heat and comfort. Titanium-weight utensils are ideal for durability and low mass. A small Swiss Army knife (I use a Victorinox Super Tinker) solves dozens of small problems without weighing much.

When money allows, I will enjoy local cuisine — but it is not required for survival. Cooking basic hot meals with a mug saves money and improves flexibility.

Accumulation periods: location and conditions

My work in IT varies: flexible hours, office, or remote. For stability during accumulation periods (when I need to save), I will live in one place for a few months, traveling only locally. Good accumulation countries have stable electricity, decent internet, a reasonable cost of living, and visas that allow longer stays; on my route those include Georgia, Armenia, UAE, Israel, South Africa, and many countries in South America.

If I cannot stay with hosts, I will rent cheap accommodation for the sake of a reliable workspace — essentially buying time to work. Optimization here includes flat-shares, hostels, or colivings. Big cities often offer many hosts; small towns offer more spontaneous invitations. Plan situationally, but keep a framework: route + savings windows + visa timing.

Safety

The biggest threat is human error. Protect the passport: I bought a small neck pouch to keep documents, cards, and cash under clothing. I will keep domestic IDs separate from international documents to simplify consular procedures if something is lost. Scan documents to the cloud as redundancy.

Statistically, traffic accidents are a major risk when you're constantly on the move with many different drivers and road rules. Use seat belts, insist on safety, and be attentive. Be pragmatic: expect kindness, but don't abandon common sense.

Balancing

Adventurism and planning are the traveler's two extremes.

Most of my friends are pure adventurers: they do not plan, they live day-to-day, and they accept unpredictability as virtue. I don't reject spontaneity, but I seek balance. My planning horizon is long: I like to know roughly where I'll be in a week, a month, a year, ten years. I don't make rigid, step-by-step schedules; instead I build a solid foundation (savings, skills, route threads) that allows improvisation on top. For long journeys this hybrid approach — strategy plus openness — reduces stress while preserving the joys of surprise.

Wandering as a way of learning

📜 Main post: The wisdom of a wayfarer

Absolutely everyone knows something you don't. That simple fact fascinates me. The world can't be understood through books alone; it must be encountered.

Instead of applying to a master's program, I will travel. Traveling with almost no money and with a child's curiosity is, in my opinion, the best general education. It places you in situations where surroundings, opinions, and traditions change constantly; without money you must interact. Locals treat a humble traveler as a guest to whom they give knowledge about their culture and life. The simpler you appear, the more likely they will share.

Travel sharpens social skills, teaches negotiation, and gives practical lessons in history, language, cuisine, religion, and everyday life. It teaches geography, navigation, and basic survival. It forces financial literacy when funds are tight, and it rewards adaptability and practical problem solving. You may sacrifice formal career speed, but you gain a breadth of experience and resilient thinking that a sheltered life rarely provides. Finally, walking a lot improves stamina and physical health.

The downside is structure: the knowledge you gain on the road is heterogeneous and chaotic — not a neatly sequenced curriculum. That is the tradeoff.

Practical benefits

Traveling without money, combined with a child's curiosity, is the best general education course in life, which no school can ever match.

Constant movement puts you in a situation of constant change of environment, opinions, traditions, approaches, etc. Without money, you will be forced to interact with this. Moreover, you will be seen not just as a tourist, but as a traveler — a guest who wants to share knowledge about their culture, values, and traditions, i.e., to show their social group as good and friendly (such is human nature). The simpler you are, the more interesting you are to the locals. When you arrive in a car, for example, it no longer creates the impression that you are an equal.

It's a way to understand the world not through social media.

A few points:

• Interaction with diverse people accelerates social skills and practical psychology. You learn bartering and begin to better understand how society works and what the people around you need.
• Exposure to many social groups expands experience.
• Every person you meet knows something you don't.
• Empirical travel corrects theoretical blindness.
• Media becomes less convincing when you have seen how politics affect real lives.
• Travel teaches navigation, basic safety and survival skills.
• You learn geography, history, languages, foodways, religion, and everyday routines by direct contact.
• Observation across environments gives intuition about biodiversity and physics.
• Scarcity forces financial discipline and practical work experience. Not having any savings will put you in a situation where you'll need to work from time to time to buy food. If you don't have a specialty, you'll have to take on different temporary jobs. This slows down your career growth, but it gives you even more experience because of the variety of skills you can learn.
• Adapting to challenges builds worldly wisdom and flexible thinking. When people who have left social groups with "greenhouse" conditions are unable to think outside the box, you will find yourself in your element.
• You understand what the world is like today, not just what it was like in the past.
• You gain skills that you would not have been able to acquire living in your own region due to the lack of the necessary conditions.

Moreover:

• You improve your health by increasing your endurance, as you will be walking a lot, sometimes over rough terrain.
• You become kinder and more compassionate, realizing that we are all one big family.

An important disadvantage in this comparison is that knowledge is not structured in the same way as in any educational course. You receive diverse information in a chaotic order, but through practice.

The narrow road

It does not matter how many days there are in your life. What matters is how much life there is in your days.

Have you ever heard of the travel diary "Oku no Hosomichi" by Matsuo Bashō?

The problem with Zen is that it's being interpreted, but let me tell you: this work is one of the most inspiring I've ever encountered, regardless of how I've conceptualized it. My blog, my travels, my entire life; it's all devoted to the road in which I'll find myself blissfully disappearing sooner or later, enjoying the gentle swaying of trees, somewhere far from home.

Be well.