Travel teaches people different things. It means different things to different people. For some, travel is about finding yourself, and they go to extreme lengths to do that. For others, it’s more about the journey than the destination.Whatever your reason(s) for traveling, at some point you have thought about the why – the existential behind your whims.
Two hours after I started writing this post, I sat down for post-work drinks with two fellow backpackers. They were already chatting about how we had all met, and it came up that everything happens (or doesn’t happen) for a reason. As travelers, we spend so much time thinking about the “what ifs?” What if I don’t go on that hike? What if I stay in tonight? What if I meet that person? What if I don’t?
And that theme leads to other deep thoughts. When you’re hiking, when you’re on the bus or train or plane… we think, we talk, and we question. We begin to see connections between what has happened and what could happen. We smile at someone and say hi; two hours later we’re laughing on a random beach because we took a chance.
Here’s five things that traveling has taught me about life.
we are all connected. I’ve come across people from my hometown in the strangest places. I met Barbara, who has become a sort of mentor, in Svalbard. I’ve met people in New Zealand who know people I went to uni with, who randomly met a friend of mine from work in another country. I hear stories of people who ran into someone from Uni or school in the outback, no one else around. It really, really is a small world.
it’s not all about me. Sometimes I forget this one, but it really isn’t all about me. Before I left Wellington, one of my friends told me, “just remember, traveling isn’t about the places you go… it’s more about the people you meet.” How true this is. The people I meet make my journey so much more interesting.
money isn’t everything. This one took me some time … if you had asked me ten years ago what I thought i would be doing at age 30, I would have said the following: I’ll be a licensed architect, living and working at a big firm in New York City, married to a hot architect, and with two kids. I’d have a lovely apartment on the Upper West Side, go to Mommy and Me playdates after work, and so on. In essence, I thought I would be successful and that money would make me happy. But now I realise that I’d rather spend my money on experiences (and books), not material things. Of course, as a writer and photographer who travels, I have to have things like a computer and a good camera… but I don’t usually buy clothes or jewelry. Now, I prefer to spend my money on travel. I’ll drop money on a skydive, because why not, but I would definitely think twice about spending the same amount of money on something like a dress or purse.
(most) people mean well. The news is full of stories of murders and disease and other bad stuff. I rarely see a feel-good story on the main page.
But there is so much good in the world. I recently walked past a young male backpacker who was well-dressed (as in, shorts and decent shirt) with a cardboard sign reading “south.” Two minutes later, he walked past me again in the company of a dad and his three sons. They all climbed into a car. While I’m still apprehensive about hitchhiking solo (and with good reason), I like to think I’m a decent judge of character and I’ve been known to jump on a sailboat with people I’ve just met (sorry, mom). I’ve met women in Turkey who don’t speak a lick of English but will bring you a cup of tea and cushions while you’re sitting outside drawing. It’s sad that people are scared to travel because they think everything will go wrong. We can’t live in fear constantly.
Edit: I wrote the prior to the story of Grace Taylor, the girl who went missing for a week in Thailand. She reported people following her and that she was scared when she finally made contact with her family. I hate this. I hate this kind of story. It blew up my newsfeed, it was posted in all of my facebook groups. And yet… I still maintain that people are good and mean well. I asked several friends of mine about it and one said he didn’t think it was true: he said, people are all sorts f***ed up. I can’t make up my mind now. I want to believe that people are good… and yet, when I hear of backpackers being raped and murdered, mugged at gunpoint, etc… I’m beginning to think that maybe we aren’t.
i can always go home. While home means different things to different people – it can be a place, a feeling, a person – those of us that travel long-term know that we can always go home. I’m lucky this way. I know there are many people who, for one reason or another, can’t go home. I also find that I make homes in each place I go… a community of people who become a sort of safe haven. I’m also lucky I have parents and other family who support me and my travel whims. (Thank you!)
this post is part of a linkup with girls vs globe. check out the rest of the posts here!
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