And other things travel taught me.
It's January 2002 and I am standing outside my branch manager's office, with a letter of resignation in my hand. I have been working for Waitrose since 1995, starting as a shop floor assistant and now I am an Assistant Section Manager, overseeing a fairly large team. I knock on the door and wait. He's not there, so I place the letter, front and centre on his desk and leave to start my shift.
I had spent most of 2001, planning and saving for a huge trip across the USA. With the help of about a dozen Lonely Planet travel books, I had drawn up my route from the East to the West coast in quite a lot of detail. As excited as I was, the thought of travelling around alone for the first time was terrifying, especially as a young woman. Those of you who have been watching #TheSerpent will appreciate that. I chose the US because I felt relatively comfortable there and it was a sensible choice for a first-time traveller. America has lots of similarities to Britain, they speak English and I had been before. I also knew a couple of people I could call if I got really stuck.
Back then, the internet was fairly new and smart phones were still a few years away. Only the big sites like Expedia.com had online booking, I didn't have Google Maps, or Trip Advisor . All my bus journeys across the US could only be booked from within the US by an automated telephone booking system (which, it turns out, didn't understand foreign accents). For some readers, this might sound horrifying, but looking back, this was the making of me and of the trip. I could write as much about the disasters and frustrations of travelling abroad, as I can about the fantastic bits. And yes, I do look back on them now and laugh.
Anyway, back to 2002; I hear a tannoy call, "Miss Mynard, please go to the Branch Manager's office" and my stomach lurches. As I make my way up the stairs, it has all now become very real and I approach the door to his office with a mixture of excitement and the realisation that I have just given up my first proper job.
I knock quickly and when he calls me in, I am surprised to see him sitting in front of his desk, legs crossed, with my letter open on his lap and a vacant chair next to him, which he gestures for me to sit in. Instead of accepting my resignation at face value, as I expected, he asks me to tell him about the trip. He listens intently as I relay my plans and then asks how long I plan to be away. I had calculated about 4 months. There is a short silence as he leans back in his chair, looking at me. He puts one hand to his chin and asks;
"If you weren't going on this trip, would you still resign?"
I really hadn't thought about it because in my mind, I was already gone. The trip was planned, the flights booked and in two months time I would be there. (My great pal Rachel had decided to come with me by this point too, so I was feeling much more relaxed about the whole thing).
"Probably not", I replied, "but the trip is too long to fit into a 4 week holiday so.."
"And what are you going to do when you get back?" he enquires.
I was honest and said that I hadn't really thought about it, as I didn't have an exact date of return. I would look for work when I got home. Another moment of silence as he looks at me, pondering my answers. Turning away, he takes the letter from his lap and places it on the desk.
"I'm not going to accept this letter", he says, "But what I am going to do is grant you three months unpaid leave. You must use two weeks of your holiday on the front of it and two weeks at the end and I'll hold your job open for you. I can't guarantee you'll be working on the same department, but there will be a job for you to come back to. How does that sound?"
Well, it sounded pretty good to me! An official document was drawn up by the company, which basically said that I agreed to come back to Waitrose after my back-packing adventure. I signed it and Rachel and I were off.
Being a big fan of Bill Bryson's travel writing, I decided to keep a diary of our trip and now, almost 20 years later, I'm so glad I did because it's not just a fantastic reminder of all the things we did, but also how I felt at the time. Like hailing down a yellow cab when we arrived in New York, to find someone had written 'Erica' in permanent ink on the black leather seat. What were the chances of that? My nerves were eased, believing someone was watching over me.
We were away for just over 3 months, until we ran out of money. And in that time, we visited many of the major cities and attractions, but when I think back, it is the people and the events, I remember the most.
Crying on the first night because our booked hotel was closed and we were relocated to a bug-infested hell-hole above a cafe in Harlem. But it's also where we met Donache and Fergus, our first friends. Two cheeky Irish boys, hustling for (illegal) work on Long Island.
The sadness of talking to a man in Washington DC, who was permanently living in the hostel because he had lost everything. His hands shook so much from his alcoholism that he asked me to roll a cigarette for him. I saw a dead body for the first time, off the quay in Florida and watched in admiration, as a young cyclist jumped straight into the water to pull the poor man out. It was way too late for the old guy, but the young man's selflessness was sobering.
I listened as Roland from Belgium, working and cycling his way around the world, told us that he wanted to do it "before the whole world becomes the same, full of Starbucks and McDonalds". He had a good point, but he also had an annoying habit of putting the vacuum round our hostel room at 6.30am.
I remember feeling overwhelmed to the point of tears, as I sat on a rock ledge, with a pot-noodle and a can of coke, staring in awe across the vastness of the Grand Canyon. We took that trip with an Australian guy, we met at our hostel in "the most dangerous area" of Las Vegas. I'm pleased to say, we all survived (even Ash's driving) and we kept in touch. Dave is now a good friend and I saw him again recently on another adventure around Australia (Hi Dave!, Hi Ashley!)
I stayed with Waitrose for another five and a half years after my trip to America and completed my Section Manager training course. By the time I left in 2008, I was managing a team of 32 people, I had represented the branch as a Councilor and assisted in setting up a new branch in Wolverhampton. Outside of work, I had left my hometown, moved into my own house, written a pantomime, joined The Royal & Derngate Actor's Company and written a television script. Would I have had the confidence and self-belief to do that before my travels? Probably not.
My manager not only recognised my achievements, but also my potential. He knew the skills I would learn on my travels would make me return to the company, a better manager and a better person. (Nothing teaches resourcefulness like arriving in Boston to be told, that all the Youth Hostels and hotels are full for the next week). He was right and I owe him a lot of thanks.
So, what's all this got to do with penguins?
Well, it's the biggest thing that has stayed with me from the whole trip. And it's also the smallest.
Rachel and I were sitting in silence with about half a dozen other naive, socially shy and nervous young people, waiting to be checked in to our hostel. A dark haired lady looked up from her travel book and addressed the room. "How much does a penguin weigh?" she asked. Each of us looked up from our bags, laps, books and sweaty palms and looked around at each other. A few guesses were quietly offered to the lady and a few mumbles of 'I don't know' until eventually she said. "I don't know either, but it breaks the ice"
We groaned, smiled at each other and breathed a collective sigh of relief. We laughed and then we started talking.
Sharing experiences with people from an entirely different background taught me to see the same things through different eyes. And understanding basic human nature can instantly break down barriers and open up a door to adventure, no matter where you are.
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