In the good old days of adventure, all you needed to join an expedition was a pith helmet, a good pair of khakis, and a reckless sense of colonial entitlement. Today, adventuring costs money. A lot if it.
And since this column is nothing if not a public service forum for adventurers (and a brilliantly written one, at that), it seems prudent to discuss the vagaries of the international currency exchange market. I know what you’re thinking: you hit the traveler’s trail to avoid getting a job, and to avoid the very mention of that dirty word, money. But the truth is, you can get a lot more out of your adventures just by carefully guessing where and when the dollar will gain the most competitive value. For example, right now one American dollar (not to be confused with the Ecuadorian dollar, which is much more powerful) will buy you a down payment on a piece of gum in the London Underground. Contrast this with Argentina, where one American dollar will not only get you your own sprawling ranch on the Pampas, but also a stable of horses and a 15% share of the Boca Juniors football team.
Once you’ve decided to move some of your dinero around, how do you do it? If the foreign currency exchange is the greatest racket in the known world, then Thomas Cook is the Don Corleone of the market. And I mean that in every way: Thomas Cook, like Don Corleone, is ruthless, always looking to expand its business and will guarantee you a high level of quality...if you’re willing to pay the price.
Lest you think I’m being unfair to the honest businessfolk who ply the foreign exchange trade, consider this familiar scenario: you’ve been flying for hours and hours, overnight, and you step off a plane into a place you’ve never been before. It’s a different time zone, often a different language and you’re mentally about five steps behind. What’s the first thing on your agenda? A monetary transaction! Brilliant.
The point is, international monetary exchange rates happen thanks to some weird voodoo that science has scarcely begun to unravel, like the DNA strand and Hollywood studio accounting. You’re much better off placing your own value on each foreign bill you encounter. A foolproof method I like to use is judging each bill on its own aesthetic, cultural, and kitschy qualities.
Most nations’ monies are much more interesting than our staid, stiff greenback. New Zealand’s five-dollar bill, for example, bears the rugged face of legendary mountaineer Sir Edmund Hillary. It must be strange for Sir Ed to pay for a pint at the pub with money bearing his likeness (okay, okay, I’m sure he doesn’t actually have to pay for drinks anywhere he goes). Putting Sir Ed on a bill is the equivalent of the U.S. putting Charles Lindbergh or Neil Armstrong on a five. Kiwi money has explorers; ours has orators. That speaks volumes.
When it comes to picturing heavy hitters on money, though, it’s tough to beat the old Greek drachma. The thousand-drachma note bore the picture of Zeus, king of the gods. You can have your Benjamins; in the international exchange world, it’s all about the Olympians.
Money doesn’t have to picture deities, though, to be interesting. The Egyptian 20-pound note bears a King Tut watermark. The works of Gauguin have nothing on the cash of French Polynesia, as these beautiful bills feature shimmering beaches, swaying palm trees, lush green mountains and striking Tahitian women. Our new comrades the Afghanis depict their proud sporting heritage on the 500-pound note: it features a lively game of goat polo. Goat polo is similar to polo, only instead of a ball they use a goat carcass. (Not sure what you were expecting there.)
South Africa’s rand are also quite nice: a rhino on the ten, an elephant on the twenty, a lion on the fifty. They’re also a rarity in African currency because they don’t picture a recently deposed or soon-to-be-deposed dictator. For years the gold standard (pun somewhat intended) of dictatorial dinero was the old zaire, featuring the chubby gaze of Mobutu Sese Seko. Every now and then in Africa or Latin America you’ll get an old despot or demigod in your spare change at the local bazaar. Consider it an unexpected gift.
Lately some of these unexpected gifts have been trickling home to the U.S. by way of the Middle East. The war in Iraq meant that the Iraqi dinar, bearing the grinning visage of Saddam Hussein, became essentially valueless on the standard international currency market. But here’s where that personal valuation system comes in handy: Saddamoney will always be worth at least a few bucks in the flea market or on eBay.
This should help get you started on the road to international financial wizardry. The next time you hit the road, be sure to stow away a stack of those silly and weird foreign bills. One day, they might actually be worth something.
