Ok, I'm getting pissed off. I've talked about this before—getting the most value for your money—and right now, it's Friday here in Sapporo, and I still don't have a place to stay. The cheapest I can find is around $70 a night, which is honestly insane. Traveling has really made me reflect on the value of money, and here are the top three countries where your money stretches the furthest: Vietnam, where you can get healthy, delicious food for two dollars and stay in a room overlooking rice fields for ten; it's absolutely unmatched. Georgia also offers cheap food and accommodation, with the added bonus of a super affordable and efficient transportation system. Then there's Thailand—amazing pad Thai for three bucks, cheap stays right on the beach, nothing better. Honorable mentions go to Laos, which is incredibly cheap but lacks the same quality of food and lodging, and Indonesia, which has amazing and healthy food at great prices, but accommodation can be a bit more expensive. Anyway, I'm seriously frustrated with how pricey Japan is, but I remind myself that I'm here exploring—a total blessing. I'm debating whether to stay another night in Sapporo and catch a $20 standing-room baseball game or head to a small coastal town known as one of Japan's best onsen destinations. I'm leaning toward the adventure, but I need to figure out how to get more cash. A few hours later, after asking around at hostels, hotels, and cafés with no success, I started to feel like there's something cultural about people here being hesitant to help strangers—maybe the language barrier, maybe just different social norms. Feeling a bit discouraged, I realized I'd have better luck asking a Westerner, someone with better English who might be more willing to help. I spotted two guys around my age walking down the street and asked for help—they generously stopped and agreed. One was a British guy named Elliott, and the other was Swedish. I used Wise to instantly transfer USD to Elliott's account, and he withdrew yen for me at a 7-Eleven. It felt weird being so helpless and reliant on someone else's kindness, and yeah, I lost a bit of money in the double currency conversion—this is exactly why we need Bitcoin to take over the world—but Wise seriously saved me. With cash in hand, I jumped on a train to Shiraoi, a rural town I chose only because it had the cheapest hostel I could find in Hokkaido—$21 a night—and it happened to be near a famous onsen town I wanted to check out. As I stepped off the train into this tiny place, I asked myself, what the hell am I doing here? But honestly, I kind of love that feeling—being somewhere totally unfamiliar, with no plan and no idea what I'll do next. That's real freedom. I made it to the hostel, which was actually really nice, asked a few questions, and settled in without a clue of what tomorrow holds—and that's a good thing. It reminded me of high school, when you'd ask your friends, "What are we doing this weekend?" and the answer was always "nothing," so you'd come up with the craziest ideas to kill time and have fun. Traveling feels like that sometimes. People keep asking me, "What are you doing in northern Japan?" or "What are you going to do in Laos?"—and it almost tricks you into thinking you have to do something. Sure, there are lots of cool activities out there, but after 10 months on the road (and it really hits around month five), you realize that sometimes the only thing there is to do… is just travel.
