From life in the laboratory to daydreaming about travel writing, a spot on Intrepid’s inaugural Diversifying the Travel Media trip in Croatia gave Chau-Jean the courage and space to chart a new career.
Gloria Gaynor assures me ‘I Will Survive’ as her anthem blasts over the sound system and I concentrate on my death-grip on the handle of this orange, swimming-pool-sized, rubber inflatable speedboat.
Drops of water from the Adriatic Sea splash onto my glasses and into my mouth, while waves the size of a safety cone crash into the sides of our inflatable orange dinghy. We are on our way back from the small Croatian fishing island of Piskera in Kornati National Park to the shores of Sibenik.
When we bid goodbye to the only two inhabitants on Piskera island and their flock of sheep, I thought our journey back would be as relaxing as our visit. How wrong I was. The winds had picked up, and the waves were now crashing against the boat. It’s a two-hour journey but it seems twice as long.
I try to listen to Shafik Meghji, an award-winning travel journalist sitting next to me, who is telling me stories about the time he was tracking pumas in Patagonia. I’m out of my element and afraid of falling into the choppy waters, so I calculate the velocity of waves in my head. It’s a comforting mental exercise and something I did for many years as a scientist.
Earlier that day, we had made the same journey to Piskera, on a calmer, peaceful sea. White sailboats glide seamlessly along the rough waves, I wish I was one of them. From a distance, everything else seems to have a smoother go of it.
I’m with six other journalists, a photographer, our trip leader, the captain and a local guide. We’re all on Intrepid’s inaugural Diversifying the Travel Media trip – a trip designed to pair four aspiring BIPOC travel writers with four established travel writers. As one of the mentees, I had applied with my writing instructor’s encouragement, but thought it was a long shot.
Writing in lockdown gave me a reprieve from childcare and a chance to use the world as a laboratory for observation again. I never really entertained the idea of pursuing it as a career.
I had picked up writing as a distraction during the pandemic. It was something I always wanted to do. I’d left my career in science a decade before to start a family and embark on a new venture. With my partner and former colleagues’ encouragement, I started a tea company called Marulin in London to sell Taiwanese oolong tea from my family’s farms. It was always a joy to tell the stories of Taiwanese tea producers over the generations – starting from my great-great granddad to my dad.
Writing about my infant and my family’s tea farms in lockdown gave me a reprieve from childcare and a chance to use the world as a laboratory for observation again. But I never really entertained the idea of pursuing it as a career.
When I was invited to join the trip, I was floored. I had taken a few writing classes and wasn’t sure I had it in me. I felt the same way when I held my newborn when I realised the immense responsibility I had in my hands and wondered how I would manage it.
The ginger candies I took along for motion sickness aren’t doing the trick. I’m afraid of capsizing, and I file these fears away in my head along with every scenario I’ve imagined for failing as I chart a new career course.
The rest of the group is quiet as they hunker down behind a makeshift blanket to shield themselves from the wind and water. I had only met this group of strangers once on a Zoom call for 30 minutes. It’s the first time I have travelled with people I don’t know.
I had my doubts when I first landed in Croatia, but the trip gave me the time and space to explore what it meant to become a travel writer. This trip was about taking the chance to change the course of my life and explore my limits, while taking some time and space from everyday demands.
Instead of worrying about what to make for dinner, I was laughing at our leader’s jokes and getting to know my fellow mentees while eating every meal together. I learned Kira, Sahkita and Queenie, were having just a hard time finding their footing in the industry.
I was the only one on the trip with a science background, while the other mentees were all trained journalists at different stages of their careers looking to pivot into travel writing. All the same, they also didn’t consider themselves travel writers. Even listening to stories from our mentors Lottie, Meera, Shafik and Georgina made me realize travel writing was not necessarily a career they had initially pursued, but an opportunity they took later in life.
While I was unsure of my place in the group and wondered whether I would ever get paid to write about travel, the joy of travel helped me to bond with everyone. We hiked island coastlines, made candles, tasted locally-made plum liquor and honey and ate Croatian festive beignets called fritules and freshly caught sea bass.
Without my family, it was a treat to enjoy the small and big moments without having to look after someone else. Instead of carefully cutting sea bass for a four-year-old and hearing complaints about the fish, I could focus on tasting it for myself. This freedom made me a bit more fearless: I could concentrate on my surroundings and write about them without any distractions.
It wasn’t all play; we also got to work. In the evenings, we took part in a series of writing workshops that helped me consolidate my goal to become a writer. Topics included understanding how the industry works to the art of pitching and writing a good story. The mentors worked with us, and we were given the tools to start building a portfolio of travel writing.
During the writing workshops, I had trouble forming story pitches about the trip. I learned that pitching travel stories is a skill that must be honed. Our mentors shared how they still, even as seasoned pros, see their pitches get rejected. Hearing their stories about the necessary vulnerability and resilience that goes into this job left me feeling much more confident.
As we head closer to shore, the water calms down, and a giant orange and blue sign perched on a nearby island reminds us that we have reached Sibenik. The captain suddenly stops the boat with a swift turn into the wind. We hear a splash and look over the edge of the boat. Our guide, Pavle Ljubic, has dived into the sea. I smile and wave at him and realize that sometimes taking a plunge is what you really need.
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