Hobo travel journalism/General information
So, with some experience of traveling to distant lands (or even starting from zero), multiplied by the ability to express your thoughts literarily, you decided to go on a journey to subsequently describe what you saw.
I’ll make a reservation right away — drive away dreams and fantasies that someone will pay for the costs associated with the upcoming trip. Also, it is advisable to forget about staying in hotels (especially "star" ones) and refuse to visit Western countries.
Dirty, stinking poverty areas, noisy oriental bazaars with heaps of garbage, mehmunsarays (low-budget Eastern accommodation, often combined with diner) where guests sleep on the floor — the prospect that awaits you. "Rest abroad" and all its nuances, actively advertised by travel agencies on television and on the Internet, have nothing to do with the topic of this textbook.
If your goal is to find income and get a job, close this page: after reading the textbook material, you will gain knowledge of the opposite nature, associated with the elements of extreme and, perhaps, the complexity of the upcoming route.
The theory of long journeys carried out at low cost should be studied before picking up a ballpoint pen, after which you can begin to practice.
I warn you in advance: you should not exclude the possibility that the material prepared by you will not be published in any printed publication and the reason is not at all that it is bad.
In our time, the heads of a few print publications (there are few of them left due to competition with online publications) do not scatter fees, trying to attract authors working on a charitable basis; sometimes even a symbolic reward for a well-written article with beautiful photos may not be allocated.
As an option, for starters, you can offer the print publication a few articles for free, for testing, in order to establish yourself.
Once, when I was a teenager, with a backpack behind my shoulders, in shabby clothes and a hat with wide fields, went down from the highest, as it seemed to me, Crimean mountains, to where in the lowlands rural children grazed a flock of sheep. The shepherd boys surrounded me from all sides, mistaking for a wanderer and started asking... I told them about the world trip, African cannibals, described aborigines traditions and much more. The chappies listened as enchanted, opening their mouths from amazement: they have never been beyond the neighboring village. However, the fifteen-year-old narrator in those days was not yet a traveler, I deceived them... and I also deceived you: this story is fiction.