As a someone who never traveled as a kid, I mean, I’d never left my home state before flying away to college at 17 years old. I never really thought much about travel but I was always fascinated by the incredible things that I’d seen in the encyclopedia. I didn’t fall in love with travel until I was in my late 30s. I think that my first real clue that I might be a travel addict was on a two week road trip that Chrissy and I went on to visit a bunch of national parks in the southwestern US. That was in 2008. Two years later in 2010 we went on another two week road trip but this time it was in France.
We planned and booked every bit of it ourselves. We chose the cities, the hotels, the activities… everything. We spent over a year studying french to give us a fighting chance at being able to ask basic questions. That trip, while not my actual first international trip was, however, the first time we’d traveled to a place that didn’t speak english. And it was the first time that we had planned an international trip on our own. It went perfectly. I remember being on our sightseeing cruise on the Seine and having this strong emotional reaction to seeing Notre Dame Cathedral, seeing the Eiffel Tower… I just couldn’t believe it. This trip for me made the world outside of the United States feel… real.
There is a deep vibe of nationalist propaganda in the US. Everything from the pledge of allegiance, to “Land of the Free…” which basically programs you to believe that America is the best (only!) place where you can be happy (safe, secure, free). Walking though the plazas in France under a row of waving flags that had no stars, and no stripes… seeing the French people out and about and living their lives… it all just felt so, ordinary. Did they know that they are not free? That they are not the home of the brave?…
That trip left me with a deep curiosity to see… everywhere. Which brings me to where I am now. Homeless (by choice) jobless (by choice), having a flat white in Auckland, New Zealand and still digesting the fact that my current, liberated life is gradually changing how I see the world. Nothing sounds… far away… anymore. The world has begun to feel like a schoolyard playground.
I make new friends, we hang out, play for a while and then we go to another part of the yard and make more friends. The different countries are like the different cliques, their own style, their own way of speaking… their own idioms. The distance between them is just a short walk, but their views of the world and their interpersonal dynamics are completely different.
Slow travel
One of the main draws of nomadic living is being able to travel slowly. Spending a quiet afternoon in a place thousands of miles from my place of birth, not being in a frantic hurry to see all the things. To have time to completely relax, to have days where you do absolutely nothing changes the experience of being there. When you’re spending a month in a city and not a few days… you have the time to fully unwind. You wake up in the morning without an agenda. You have breakfast… do you go to the museum? The park, the beach or the couch? It’s such a different way of traveling. You’re there long enough to have a favorite Banh Mi stand. The folks there recognize you, and eventually know your order.
I’ll admit, before we transitioned into this life, one of the many anxieties that I had was if I would still enjoy travel when it wasn’t a vacation. When you have to see all of Australia in two weeks… the daily price of things pales in comparison to the cost of the flight. So why not have that fancy meal? The over priced tour, snack or trinket really doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.
That all changes when travel is life… in your normal life you don’t spend like that. You eat at home most of the time. You wait until the weather is nice to go on that trail. You only have that decedent desert sometimes, not everyday. The more I thought about that, the more I started to wonder… “will I even like travel when I’m not on vacation?”
We’re just about a year into this and so far I can say with some confidence, that the answer is an absolute yes. It’s so, so much better.
You rent a place with a nice view, and you just spend lazy afternoons with your feet up enjoying it. You meet a local who tells you about a cool beach that you didn’t see on google maps and since you have no real itinerary you can just “go check it out” one afternoon. It’s been truly wonderful.
The downsides
Well, once you’ve been in that 5th floor walk up with great beer and wonderful garlic bread just a couple of blocks away… (Riga, Latvia!) for a month, it’s a little bit tough to leave. It’s become home. You’ve been there long enough to figure out all the ways of walking home without a map. You’ve figured out the bus system. You’ve got a favorite spot in the park. Now you have to leave it all behind for the unknown.
It’s a life of constant reset. I imagine that for some, it could just be too much. Or become exhausting. So far I’m not feeling that way. The anxiety of having to figure out which milk is low fat, which butter has salt, and what is that!?!… when i can’t read a word of the next country’s language so far is outweighed by the absolute thrill that it is to see how people live in a land that is as far from “home” as i can possibly be.
Grocery shopping when you can’t read the language is… slow. Tedious even. As social dancers, finding the local dance scene and getting up the courage to just go when you don’t know anyone. Walking in southeast Asia, especially Vietnam because the traffic, and the scooters are not something that you’ve seen elsewhere. Trying to decide if the smiling local is trying to scam you, or if just honestly excited to see you there. Not remembering if you should say Nǐ hǎo, Kon’nichiwa, Sawasdee… and do I bow? Do I make prayer hands?
And what about where you’re staying? Was the Airbnb listing accurate? Will there really be a washer, an oven, a microwave? Is it going to be quiet in the evenings? Is the bed going to be squeaky and creaky? What’s the coffee maker situation? How far is the grocery store? Will I be able to cut chicken with the dull knives? What if my credit card doesn’t work? What if the ATM eats my card? Was that really worth 300,000 dong? How do I eat this fruit? Oh, that mango looking thing is actually some kind of a potato!? Why is the ice cream gummy? Why is there no bread here? Oh no, did I read that as month/day/year or day/month/year… and which was it? Can I drink the water? Did I drink the water? How do I get my medicine from the pharmacy when we don’t speak the same language?
There are a lot of things to be anxious about, but you know what this year has taught me? People are people. There are people living their lives in places that you’ve never heard of, and they have everything they need. (And most of the things they want). The people in places that the news has told you are your enemy will greet you with a smile and be genuinely happy to see that you’ve come to visit their hometown.
The world is big, but it’s also quite small. Most importantly though, the things that divide us are all made up.
