Okay, my GSM-based Treo wasn’t compatible with Japan’s mobile networks, but I could use it pretty much everywhere else. And in 2002-2003 it seemed like I did just that.

By this time I had racked up enough Air Canada points for a free trip to Australia, via Hawaii. I remember being on a bus in Honolulu and firing up the mobile version of MapQuest to verify the location of the Ala Moana Center, where I would enjoy my first-ever serving of Hawaiian poi. Choosing a food court vendor over a touristy hotel restaurant saved me about fifty bucks. Later that trip I would surprise a friend back in Canada with my reply to her innocuous text: “What am I up to? Oh, not much… just having breakfast in Sydney, Australia is all…”

Later that year I was back in Singapore with the The Second City theatre, and amazed our stage manager by pulling up almost-live hockey scores from back home on Yahoo’s mobile sports site. On that same trip I somehow managed to find a cute Singaporean pen pal to flirt with via SMS when I got back home — once we both figured out the country codes, of course. It didn’t last long but while it did it was an amazing thing, sharing random moments from lives on the run from opposite sides of the world. This was all in the days before Twitter, of course.

My Treo was also there for me during tougher times. It allowed me to take diligent notes from doctors as my father lay dying in hospital. During the SARS epidemic, no less. And when a sudden, North America-wide power outage silenced my desktop computer and cordless phones, my Treo persevered. That I could still make calls on it made me quite popular with my neighbours, at least for the duration of the blackout.

The last time my Treo would travel with me was, fittingly, on my last jaunt as an overseas comedian, performing for Canadian troops stationed in Bosnia-Herzegovina. We were already halfway through our two-week USO-style tour — sorry, deployment — when I learned that mobile phones were not allowed on base. Apparently local crime rings had the technology to intercept mobile transmissions, including SMS. But about the only sensitive information I remember sending was that the food was fantastic. Seriously, an army really does travel on its stomach.

My Treo and I had some great times together and it rarely, if ever, let me down. I miss it to this very day.

I must admit that gazing upon Handspring’s first colour Treo has me trembling just a little bit… My first smart/world phone was so clearly ahead of its time (in 2002) — in fact, the only other handset that caught my eye that entire year was Nokia’s 7650, which cost twice as much and didn’t work in North America!

And here’s the review that convinced me to buy it.

2002 would prove to be a very good year for travel, and my Treo proved to be an excellent travel companion. Here’s us on Capital Hill, me checking my imaginary wristwatch for a non-existent appointment. G-Men wear polka dots, don’t they?

Here’s us in Melbourne, Australia with comedy duo Scared Weird Little Guys, and a mutual friend back in Canada on speakerphone.

And here’s Ray Deonandan, whom I took pity on when the hinge of his Treo broke. After I sold him mine he broke the hinge on that a month or so later. I’ll never forgive myself for not keeping it…

Relax, the video embedded above isn’t actually ninety-one minutes, more like three and a half. I had forgotten that the 270 didn’t support GPRS when it shipped, making the Treo the lucky recipient of my first-ever firmware upgrade!

Here’s Nokia’s first WAP-surfing phone for the Americas, the 7190. You can read Steve Punter’s review of the Fido-branded one I used here.

Inspired by The Matrix’s banana phone, the 7190 was much more useful thanks to its Navi-Roller (that scroll wheel just below the screen) and (more importantly) mobile web browser. Too bad there wasn’t really anywhere to visit beyond Fido’s online portal in early 2001.

Things would change soon enough…