The Art of Non-Conformity: Unconventional Strategies for Life, Work, and Travel

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I lived in Seattle for a year before I went to my first professional sports game last summer. I’m not usually a big fan of watching sports, but it was fun to go down to Safeco Field and hang out with friends at the Mariners’ game.

Getting to the game could have been difficult for me. Despite living in Seattle for 18 months without a car, I still have no clear understanding of how the bus system works. I take the bus to the university almost every day, but it’s always the same bus. I know how to get downtown and to Sea-Tac airport for my frequent trips, but otherwise, I’m lost in the city. In this case, I arranged to travel with a friend down to the game, so I didn’t worry about which buses to take and where to transfer.

Jolie and our friends that are aware of my ignorance enjoy the fact that I can regularly go all over the world, but can’t navigate my own city very well. I acknowledge the irony, but in all truthfulness, the fact that I need to call someone or check online to figure out which local bus to take doesn’t really bother me. If I was going to live in Seattle for the rest of my life, I might make more of an effort, but as it currently stands, I don’t really care.

On the other hand, when it comes to knowledge about world travel, I am the most informed person that I know. In fact, I’m sure there are people out there somewhere who are more informed than me, but I really don’t know any personally. I know every airline that flies out of Sea-Tac and where they fly to on what days. Not just Sea-Tac either: if you gave me an obscure city on the other side of the world, I’d be willing to bet I could tell you almost precisely how to get there, what to do on the way, and how much it would cost. The other day I was walking down the street and saw an SAS flight take off towards the east. I couldn’t help thinking: “That’s the daily flight to Copenhagen. Gets in at 13:25 local time. Terminal 3 with transfer to Stockholm, Oslo, and Kristiansand.”

To many people, in fact to just about everyone, this knowledge would be useless or at best esoteric. There are other topics in life that I know effectively zero about (algebra comes to mind), and other topics that I know quite a lot about.

The point is that over the past few years, I’ve decided to focus more on what I need to know at the cost of learning things I don’t really care about.

This practice has been successful in helping me travel around the world, but when I haven’t adhered to it in other life areas, it has limited my results. Most of the business leaders I respect tend to emphasize the need to stay focused on your business’s primary mission—an imperative with which I agree. For years, though, I have worked as an entrepreneur and failed to follow this advice consistently. I’ve managed to earn a decent living as a self-employed person, but in moving from project to project without good focus on a primary mission, I have not always succeeded in creating projects that generate significant, lasting value.

The question each of us needs to answer is this: “What do I need to know in order to a) achieve my overall goals, and b) live my ideal life?”

When you know the answer to that question, you’ll know what knowledge to pursue. Granted, you might not take it to the extreme I have in ignoring the local transit system that I depend on every day. But chances are you’ll find yourself working closer to the big goals and the ideal life you envision.

One caveat to this: I like to separate general knowledge from specific knowledge, and I don’t limit the amount of general knowledge that I acquire. I read at least 5 books and 15 magazines a month, in addition to countless newspapers, web sites, and blogs. I consider this kind of knowledge to be a net positive contribution to my life, and it fits nicely in my overall role of being a lifelong learner. But for me, a renaissance lifestyle means that I learn about everything that I’m interested in, and I don’t worry about other knowledge that I lack. For whatever reason, I don’t care much about algebra or the Seattle Transit system, and it doesn’t bother me that I haven’t done much to change this.

Back to the baseball game—we had a nice time, although the Mariners lost 6-2. On the way back we walked back up to the Bainbridge Island ferry terminal to say goodbye to friends. After that, we took the #16 bus back to our apartment. For once, I knew exactly where to go.

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After I leave India and go to Tokyo, I pick up my OneWorld Round-the-World ticket at the American Airlines counter in Narita airport. This ticket has 20 flight segments, which is the maximum you’re allowed under OneWorld rules. Like most tickets these days, any Round-the-World ticket under 17 segments is issued as an e-ticket. When you use segments 17 through 20, however, the ticket has to be issued on paper stock.

I mention that because I am now in possession of the thickest plane ticket I have ever seen. I have 20 flight coupons, naturally, and all the required documentation, stapled together in a huge mass of paper. When I check in for my first flight, NRT-HKG, the Cathay Pacific agent is suitably impressed.

“You have so many flights!” she says.

Yes, I do. And I like that.

From Narita I travel to Hong Kong for a 20-hour layover before returning to Los Angeles, where I began this trip a couple weeks back. In Hong Kong I always stay at the Lee Garden Guest House, a tiny place on the 8th floor of an unassuming building in the TST district of Kowloon. Charlie Chan, the owner, provides rooms for a fraction of the cost that most travelers pay when staying in the notoriously expensive city.

Even though his guesthouse is still relatively cheap, Charlie Chan has raised his prices recently. Maybe it’s just the long downward spiral of the U.S. dollar, but the $400 HKD ($60 USD) seems like more than I paid last time. Still, to stay in central Kowloon for under a hundred bucks isn’t the easiest thing to do, so I’m content.

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The last time I was here, I had just moved to Seattle in late 2006. I traveled via Seoul on Asiana Airlines, and by the time I finally reached Hong Kong, I was exhausted from the 22-hour trip that included a three-hour delay in Seoul. As is often the case, I couldn’t sleep despite being so tired, and I woke up at 2:00 a.m. with the strange jet-lagged feeling of being awake but not having any energy. At 4:00 a.m. I finally went outside and walked up the street to a 24-hour McDonald’s for pancakes.

I walked around Kowloon, which was surprisingly awake at 4:30 a.m., until ten. I returned to the guesthouse for a two-hour nap and immediately fell asleep for eight hours. That was not part of the plan, but from then on in my travels I stopped worrying about jet lag. Whatever happens, happens is my theory. Eventually it sorts itself out and I end up on local time, usually just before it’s time to go somewhere else.

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I frequently find myself in places that I’m ready to leave soon after arriving. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with them; it just means that I get bored easily and crave the sense of movement to a new place.

Hong Kong is different—I could stay for weeks, or maybe even months without going anywhere else. I didn’t even get to see one of my favorite cities in the world for very long this time, and I resolve to stay longer when I come back this way again.

Ready or not, it’s time for me to say farewell to Hong Kong, city of shopping centers and skyscrapers. On a quick metro trip to the other side of the harbor, I stand next to an elderly woman playing a pink Nintendo DS, oblivious to the world as she presses the buttons.

A few short hours later finds me leaving the city far too soon, riding the hour-long A21 CityFlyer bus from Chattam Road back to the airport. We pass by Nathan Road in the TST district and gradually pick up more passengers.

My bus pulls in to Terminal One at Hong Kong International Airport and I begin the process of a new journey. Check-in, immigration, hiding the liquids and gels I’ve smuggled from country to country, security check, lounge visit or terminal wandering, gate-waiting, and boarding.

Thanks to the free wi-fi, I check my email and see that many of you have joined my email list. There were more than one thousand visitors to this new site yesterday, and I’m surprised at all the nice feedback.

My thanks go out to every one of you for reading; I am truly honored. Please keep leaving comments and writing in to say hello.

HKG-LAX

On Cathay Pacific Airways, the flight crew is the epitome of sensitivity that I imagine the British strove to inspire in Hong Kong. Upon departure the captain says, “Cabin crew, please kindly prepare for takeoff.” How thoughtful. When I get up to visit the lavatory before the seat belt sign is off, the flight attendant notices me and asks, “Excuse me, sir, but did you notice that the seat belt sign is still on?” I am politely shamed into following all of the in-flight rules for the rest of our twelve-hour flight.

I watch a documentary on climate change in Africa and enjoy my penne pasta with merlot. I sleep for a few hours and wake up in U.S. airspace. Four hours later, I’m in Los Angeles, sleepwalking through immigration in the middle of the afternoon and getting ready to hang out at a downtown conference for a few days.

It’s been a good trip.

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Part I - Getting to India
Part II - India Travel Journal I

After traveling around by land during my first week in India, I arrive in Calcutta on a late-night Kingfisher Airlines flight from Hyderabad. The flight is great, and serves as a good model for what U.S. airlines could learn from if they were interested in learning anything. Everyone receives a full meal on the all-economy flight, we have Bollywood movies on our own individual screens, and the flight attendants are extremely gracious. It’s just like Jet Blue, except they actually deliver what they promise.

Due to air traffic control delays (something all too universal, unfortunately), we are about an hour and a half behind schedule, putting us getting into CCU airport close to midnight. I think Pico Iyer once wrote that all flights to Calcutta are destined to land at 3:00 a.m. By that standard, I suppose, we’re three hours early.

I stagger out to the arrivals area, book a pre-paid taxi, and meet my driver for an hour-long ride to nowhere. After he stops to ask three or four people for directions, we finally find my guesthouse. I check in, arrange for breakfast, and fall fast asleep after a quick shower. (I’m still working off the effects of the 12-hours of jet lag from Seattle the week before.)

Prior to coming to Calcutta, my Indian experience has been mixed. In Mumbai I loved the food but didn’t enjoy the lack of decent budget lodging options. I went to Hyderabad next, which had both good food and cheap hotels… but something didn’t feel right. I’m the first to admit that it could be totally subjective, but for whatever reason, I didn’t love Hyderabad.

From my first day in Calcutta, everything changes for the better—even the things that were pretty good before. My guesthouse is perfect, and even includes free wi-fi that allows me to catch up on life back home. The food in the city is great, and I regularly eat full meals for under $1.50.

Happy Holi

The second day is even better. I discover that I am in Calcutta for Holi, the Hindu festival that celebrates the arrival of spring. On the first day of Holi, nearly everyone covers themselves in body paint from head to toe.

Upon exiting my guesthouse and heading for the nearby metro, I quickly learn that I am not exempt from the practice. A group of excited young me come up to me with fistfuls of the powder that turns to paint as you smear it on your body. “Hello, sir!” one of them says. “Happy Holi!” There’s no getting out of this, and it’s nice to be the center of attention from people who want nothing more than to share their culture with you.

“Okay,” I say as they extend their hands to my face. “But small, please.” No need to go overboard like some people do at these things.

They smear yellow and purple powder on my face and hair. I think to myself, I hope I’m not converting to Hinduism. I ask for two pictures—one of them by themselves and another with me. They immediately agree, and everyone crowds in for the photos. I say goodbye and walk off with all of us laughing.

The metro is closed for the holiday, so I walk the three miles into town. It’s a long trek in the Indian heat, but the walk is made better by countless people stopping me to wish me a Happy Holi. I get my face painted a couple more times at the insistence of festive Calcuttans, and finally make it to Park Street, where I cool off in an air-conditioned café. I drink a liter of water and head back outside.

Lunch costs 25 cents at a sidewalk vendor. I get dumplings and hot soup, which is ironic considering the heat, but it tastes great. After wandering through bookshops and city streets for two more hours, I’m ready for the highlight of the afternoon: a trip to Mother Theresa’s house.

Mother House

I walk to Mother House, as it’s known here, and get directions along the way from several helpful Calcuttans. When I arrive, it turns out I’ve come at just the right time—the 3:00 p.m. Good Friday service is about to begin. Before I go upstairs, I walk around the small visitors’ area. Reading the information about Mother Theresa’s life and the work of Missionaries of Charity around the world is truly inspiring. This has got to be the only tourist destination in India that does not offer anything for sale or ask for donations. Despite the dozens of foreign visitors that come every day, there’s no bookshop, souvenirs, or mementos to buy.

Upstairs there are at least 100 nuns at the service, along with a small crowd of Western and Japanese visitors. We sit on one side of the room, across from the nuns. The service is nice. Just before communion, I try to sneak out—I’m not a confirmed Catholic, so I’m not supposed to take communion—but I’m stopped at the door by a sister who politely asks me to stay. I learn later that they have a rule: once you’re inside, you stay inside until the end of the service. No one comes late, and no one leaves early. Despite being ready to go after an hour and a half, I’m impressed with this policy. I don’t know any churches in America that would try doing that.

I leave Mother House (after the service ends, twenty minutes later) and spend some more time walking. The metro is open now, so I take it back to South Calcutta where I’m staying.

South City Mall

Before leaving Calcutta the next day, I visit the new South City Mall upon the recommendation of the guesthouse owner. This gleaming five-story building is certainly incongruous with the image of Calcutta as a center of urban poverty. I’ve been to some big Asian malls before, in Bangkok, Hong Kong, and Singapore, and most of those were probably superior in a strict shopping sense—but this architectural Mecca of the city’s elite is still something special.

I enter at the ground floor and sit on a bench for a full half an hour, taking it all in and journaling. Outside I was covered in sweat from the heat; inside, I’m shivering from the arctic blast of the a/c. The music is blasting too, and I have no choice but to enjoy all the great Top 40 hits of the 80s on repeat.

“It must have been cold there in your shadow…” Bette Midler sings as I sit on the bench with some Indians. Next up is Tina Turner, followed by Sinead O’Conner, and I finally head upstairs as Rod Stewart comes over the system.

I check out the shops on each floor, and find it strange to see The Body Shop in the same city that Mother Theresa’s house is in. I go back and forth between worlds all the time, but this is a stretch even for me.

There’s an Australian cookie shop downstairs and another place called Kookie Jar in the food court upstairs. Strangely, the Kookie Jar sells curry and cakes, but no cookies. Otherwise, the food court boasts a wealth of world cuisine choices. I debate between Pizza with Friends and Not Just Dosas before settling on Hat’wich, the Indian version of Quizno’s. Unlike Quizno’s, there are real vegetarian options here—a grand total of seven different sandwiches to choose from. Thanks, India. I appreciate that about you.

After a sandwich I go to The Juice Bar, but a sign informs customers that they are out of juice today. A juice bar out of juice, how perfect. I have a sweet lassi instead and spend an hour reading my book.

I leave the mall as Eternal Flame is belting through the sound system. I go back to my guesthouse, get my bags, and take a taxi to the airport. I’m headed back over to Mumbai, where my trip will end in two day’s time. The airport is as frantic as it was the last time, but I’m able to smile at the frenzy. I pay my driver, go inside for the boarding pass, and head off towards the security checkpoint. In three more hours, I’ll be in Mumbai.

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Update: My trip to India is almost over. I’m now at the Mumbai airport, getting ready to fly back to Japan. Next stop: Hong Kong, and then back to L.A. for the weekend.

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Here’s a proposal for you: raise a quarter of million dollars through withdrawing your life savings, borrowing from family members, and maxing out your credit cards. Pay that to a company that will “give you a business.” Operate that business precisely how they tell you– no exceptions are allowed. Every decision from whom you hire to what services you offer to where you locate your store is defined by the company.

They’ll even tell you what color shirt you are required to wear to work in “your own business.”

If the business works well, you’ll make an average of $47,000 a year after scraping by for three years working the same 50-hour work weeks you could spend at someone else’s company with a lot less stress. In this winning scenario, your ultimate success won’t be having started a business. You’ll have bought yourself a job.

If the business fails, which happens quite often, the company will take back the store from you and resell it another sucker… I mean client. When they do this, they won’t even count your failure as a store closure in their statistics, so when you hear that 95% of franchise locations stay open, you have no idea who is operating them and who owes their family $250,000 that they have no way to repay.

How does that proposal sound to you?

Probably not so great, but companies that franchise themselves are great at persuading people otherwise. These franchises make money by selling to franchisees. They spend that money on marketing to other would-be franchisees (just look at Entrepreneur magazine).

Think this doesn’t happen? Take a look around. Subway, Quizno’s, UPS Store, vending machines, etc. Pick up Entrepreneur magazine and flip to the back. You’ll find literally hundreds of franchise opportunities that promise exactly this scenario.

What’s the way out of this trap disguised as an opportunity? There are two options:

1) After the $250,000 investment and three years of hard work, your business is profitable and you can truly outsource its operation. You can then open multiple locations, which most franchise owners say is the only way to achieve long-term, six-figure profitability. It does work for some people; it’s just hard.

2) Start a real business. As in, your own business that belongs to you with your name on it. Success or failure is entirely up to you. Don’t go into debt if you can help it, but if you have no choice, at least your debt will go to your own venture instead of a corporate sandwich shop.

In the long term, this is the only way forward for most independently minded entrepreneurs. I’ve never been good at following directions, so unless you want a color-by-numbers business, you should stay away too.

If a business opportunity is a) high risk, b) high stress, c) high maintenance, and d) low on growth potential, why would you even consider it? Don’t believe the hype! Eat the sandwiches at Quizno’s, get a mailbox at the UPS Store, but leave the franchise brochures behind.

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If you want to take over the world, or at least change it in a positive way, you’re going to need an army to back you up. Your army does not need to be large, nor does it need to consist of full-time troops. Some of the best armies are purposely lean on bodies, but never on overall commitment to the cause.

You might think that armies are best suited to achieving the goals of a group, but don’t be misled. Even highly-individualistic goals, like starting a business or visiting every country in the world, will benefit greatly from the support of a small army.

Characteristics of the Average Small Army

Be careful! Armies can desert, or even worse, mutiny. Proper care of your small army is required. To begin with, you need to recognize the following features of armies, which are fairly common across different disciplines:

• Armies are loyal as long as they are inspired. Stop providing inspiration, and the army will stop paying attention.
• Armies like to be paid. You don’t have to pay them in money. Instead, pay them in attention, recognition, goodwill, and other intangible benefits.
• Armies enjoy responsibility and specialization. They like to be given authority over a project and they like to be accountable for it.
• Armies like specific field assignments. A lot of leaders abdicate to their armies—“just go and do it somehow.”- instead of delegate. This wears the army down. Most conscripts want parameters, mission briefings, and field intelligence. They want to know someone is checking up on them and looking out for them.

Recruitment Strategy

So, you want to take over the world. Or you want to do something else that requires some help. How do you recruit an army?

1. Look around you. Your greatest supporters are the people closest to you. Before you do anything else, get their advice.

2. Ask for help. A remarkable thing happens when you ask for help: you learn where people stand. On the one hand, some friends that you expected to be there for you won’t come forward. This can be disappointing, but on the other hand, you’ll usually find new supporters who regularly go above and beyond your expectations.

3. Advertise. Put out your shingle. Announce your plans. Set up a sign-up list for people who will willingly help you take over the world. Don’t worry about the ones who don’t enlist; focus on the ones who do.

4. Do something great, and people will naturally follow. Give them a good reason, and they’ll go to the ends of the earth for you.

What To Do with Your Army

Once you have a small army, you need to put it to work. Armies want to do something, whether invading another country or helping with a coup in their own country. An army sitting around all the time isn’t good for morale, so even if you get them out cleaning up after a hometown flood, at least you have them busy.

Important Note: Sending your army off to work does not mean sending them to do “busy-work” or tasks that have no value. No one likes that, and there should be more than enough legitimate assignments for your team anyway.

Social causes are good, but armies will work for businesses too. Every good retail or service business knows that a certain percentage of customers—usually about 2-4%– are hyper-loyal. These customers will buy absolutely every product you make. They don’t even need to be sold; you just tell them where to go and they do it. Customers like that have fully signed up for your Special Forces division. Take good care of them, and they’ll stick with you for life.

Real-World Examples: University, Cubicle, Church, NGO

In academia, a strange paradox keeps many students and faculty in a hypertensive environment. Everyone is expected to think critically, but at the same time everyone is under tremendous pressure to conform. Sadly, there are stronger norms among people who value free-thinking than almost anywhere else. Do something truly different that breaks away from these norms, and others will flock to you in search of relief from the ordinary.

In cubicle land, you can build a small army by making your primary goal to help others instead of making yourself look good. I don’t mean in addition to, I mean instead of. Sure, you may not get ahead in the eyes of superiors, but you’ll build your own brand that you can then take elsewhere. Whether they admit it or not, most knowledge workers have a large percentage of their work week that is relatively undefined. They can spend it reading every article on CNN.com, making themselves look good, or making others look good. And there’s not much worth reading on CNN lately.

In the average church, the committed volunteers will often do more work than the paid staff members. Most churches need some staff members, but the most productive churches use the paid staff to coordinate the army of volunteers. The church will rise or fall on the commitment of its volunteers.

In the non-profit world, you bring in a few business skills and the non-business folks will be amazed. People who save the world for a living are sometimes afraid of corporate systems, so you have to move in slowly. But when you produce great results, your army will line up outside the door. They’ll look to you for the skills they don’t have. You’ll be a leader regardless of your title.

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Here’s a few specific examples of real-world armies:

Run 50 Marathons – Traveling with a photographer and a dietician, Sam Thompson ran 50 marathons in 50 states in 50 days. Along the way he acquired a following of fellow running fanatics and other people who just thought he was pretty crazy in a good way.

I’m one of them. A year and a half later, I am still amazed at Sam’s achievement. I ran 1 marathon in 1 state in 1 day a while back and thought that was good enough for me. And then I did it again a year later, but 2 in 1 in 365 isn’t nearly as cool as 50 in 50 in 50.

Start a Social Movement for Video Games - These guys live across the water from me in Bellevue, Washington. They write a tri-weekly comic strip filled with inside jokes that is read by millions of people. A few years ago they started putting on video game conventions for a few thousand of their closest friends, and going from online comic strip to massive convention wasn’t easy. They needed an army, and they found one in their massively loyal (but not always well-balanced) fans.

Last year they moved out of the Bellevue conference center, which was already huge, into the enormous Washington State Visitors and Convention Center in downtown Seattle. Their work isn’t for everyone, but they know that—their work is for their own small (or perhaps not-so-small now) army.

Charity without Borders - After coming to Africa and seeing how much different life was in Cotonou compared to New York City, my friend Scott Harrison decided to bring clean water to everyone in the world. He’s doing it here, and he already has 13,000 volunteers helping him so far.

ZenHabits – My blogging friend Leo Babauta over at ZenHabits has recruited a massively effective small army in just a year. His army religiously reads his articles, submits his posts to social networking sites, and helped him turn pro recently. Leo is a full-time writer now, thanks to the army he has built up by providing great value over time.

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People want to believe in something, so give it to them. Give them a vision and a task. Give them a reason why you (or your business, or your cause) is different.

Think about your greatest goals in life. What kind of army do you need? Figure it out, and start recruiting.

By the way, I need some help with my own goals, too. If you like my writing so far, please join the team. (You can be released from service at anytime.) You can also help by submitting and voting for these essays at Digg, StumpleUpon, and other social networking sites.

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