Lessons Learned While Traveling the World as (a Bit of) a Germophobe

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It is a ritual that I observe almost without exception. As a full-time travel writer, I stay in a lot of hotels. And moments after I check into the room, after finding a convenient place to situate my luggage, I proceed. First, I remove any bedspread or decorative pillows from my bed—these items, it should be noted, are rarely washed. Then, I retrieve an antibacterial wipe and, methodically, item-by-item, I wipe down the room.

The light switches. The door handles. The side tables. Especially the television remote control, which has consistently been shown to be the dirtiest thing in a hotel. Luxury five-star resort or budget roadside lodge, I never waver. And it’s only then—after giving my hands a thorough washing—that I can truly relax and enjoy the room.

Keeping Travel Clean

Traveling as a bit of a germophobe can be a challenge. Now, I don’t pretend to be seriously afflicted. Germophobia, also known as mysophobia, is a real, diagnosable condition associated with obsessive-compulsive disorder.

My worries don’t rise to those levels. I’m just not so comfortable with germs or being dirty. I also perform the wet-wipe routine on airplane seats. The air vent, the arm rests, the seatbelt—they all get the treatment.

But things can get a little tricky when you’re literally on the road—especially when that road runs through some of the remotest stretches of Central Asia. Traveling overland in a specially designed bus-truck from Tashkent, the capital of Uzbekistan, and Ashgabat, the capital of Turkmenistan, a few years ago was a hard trip.

Road were rough as we made our way across vast and seemingly endless deserts. The vehicle was hulking, with minimal comforts, but it was strong. There had been an unfortunate miscommunication when I booked the trip, and I had been told that bringing along a sleeping bag wouldn’t be necessary. As it turned out, it was. When I landed in Tashkent, the trip leaders found me an old sleeping bag a previous guest had left behind. With no other options, I made the best of it, despite the fact that it smelled like dirty socks.

In Uzbekistan, we had stayed overnight in budget hotels, but once we crossed the land border to Turkmenistan, the camping began. I’m not the biggest fan of camping, even at a campground, when you have showers and other amenities. But this wasn’t that. Here, in the evening, we’d find a reasonably level area of arid ground, pull up the truck, and pitch a series of basic pup tents. The bathroom, well, you made that yourself—a hole in the ground. We were warned that if we saw someone wandering off with a shovel in hand, don’t follow them. Not ideal.

My general philosophy is: I don’t stay anywhere without a flush toilet. That is, unless it’s really worth it. And you know what? That was absolutely the case here. The journey followed the old Silk Road. We visited bustling bazaars in Bukhara and marveled at the impressive Registan Square and the tomb of Tamerlane in Samarkand. I learned about cultures that were completely foreign to me. It was worth the germs and the shovel and the smelly sleeping bag. Even if I used a record amount of hand sanitizer.

Picking Your Battles

Often, it’s mind over matter. And I rarely watch those television shows where they bring in a UV light to show the stains left behind by previous guests. I try not to look under the bed. When I put on the robe in the room, I imagine that I’m the very first person to wear it—however unlikely.

I apply the same logic to hot tubs, because I do love a long, hot soak. That water’s clean, right?

But when it comes to eating and drinking, things can get tricky. While I always cleanse before a meal with a handy, tiny bottle of hand sanitizer that I carry in my pocket at all times, the content of the food is tougher to control. And as far as germs go, there are few more destructive (and scary) than salmonella.

On a visit to a hot springs resort in southern Japan, I reached the dining room, where a sort of cultural interpreter met me. Dressed formally but quick with a smile, he was French, but married to a Japanese woman who worked at the resort. We settled in for a 10-course dinner. While most of it was seafood and fish, I had requested in advance that a couple courses be land-based, vegetables or meat.

They responded by adding to the menu a local specialty: chicken sashimi. I recoiled a bit when they placed the raw chicken in front of me. Very cognizant of the fact that I had a long day of flying coming up immediately, I pictured very unpleasant scenes taking place on the plane.

“We’ve never had anyone get sick,” my new friend assured me. He explained that the meat is fresh and sourced from a farmer just around the corner who is personal friends with the owner of the hotel. The odds of food poisoning were, he said, basically impossible.

So, I dove in. And you know what? It was pretty decent. I wouldn’t place the dish on my list of favorite foods, but I got a good story out of it. And I never got sick.

Plus, I learned a lesson. Sometimes, you have to brave the germs, whether that means letting my head touch a decorative pillow, handling a hotel remote—or eating raw chicken. But no matter what, I think I’ll still keep my little bottle of sanitizer, right there in my pocket.

Tips for Traveling With Germs

1. High-touch surfaces like hotel remotes and airplane tray tables really are packed with germs, so wiping them down is advisable, especially if you’ll be eating anytime soon.
2. But don’t let it get out of hand. Mind over matter. Fear of getting sick can ruin a vacation almost as much as actually getting sick.
3. If you think you’ll be uncomfortable, call ahead—a hotel or restaurant can always make accommodations if they know about a condition in advance.