I can say, without any hesitation, that travelling has been the best education. (Sorry, Mom and Dad.)
There were some similarities to my schoolgirl days: giant backpacks, heavy reference books, questionable food quality, uniforms…
But the tuition was steep, even when compared to elite private institutions. The days were long and often draining (much more so than a boring lecture). And at the end of it all, I didn’t get to walk across the stage in my cap and gown to get a piece of paper proving my sticktoitiveness.
Though, I suppose, prancing through the arrivals aisle at YVR and into the open arms of loved ones was an acceptable substitute.
If I were to write my thesis about what I learned in the past few months - a length of time that far surpassed all my previous records for longest period away from home - it would include these chapters.
1. Appreciate the luxury that is horizontal sleeping. Trying to catch some decent z’s while sitting upright is nearly impossible - at least without your little prescription friends (or so I’m told, I swear). Airlines, having caught on to this nifty little fact, now make a habit of charging an arm and a leg to passengers desperate for a good rest. Heck, if the alternative is sitting in a cramped coach seat, you might as well save yourself the discomfort by forfeiting the aforementioned appendages… Think of how much more room you’d have! But I digress. Joni Mitchell may claim that “Big Yellow Taxi”, with its line, “don’t know what you got till it’s gone”, was inspired by what she saw on a trip to Hawaii, but the truth is likely that she was travelling on a budget and was therefore unable to spring for cushy cabins on her overnight trains. Poor, ungrateful Joni.
2. If Paris Hilton were a modest traveller, Duct Tape would be her new BFF. No matter which side of the pond. It’s cheap. It’s (somewhat) easy to tote along. It will never look better than you (well, I can’t really generalize). Before I left on the trip, a wise blog advised that I should pack a fresh roll of duct tape. And I, clever me, had the balls audacity to question if this would be a waste of precious space in my itty bitty backpack (which I could actually fit in). But the duct tape saved me on several occasions. Like when my treasured money belt looked like it might need some help (hey, it was a long trip and there was much to be eaten!). And when I didn’t have a clothesline to dry my handwashed gym gear from the one time I tried to work up a sweat (a short-lived endeavour). And who knows when else. I’m sure it could have sustained me if I spent my last euro on those damn W.C.. Which brings me to my next point…
I'm so clever.
3. Be nice to tourists. It’s never fun to be lost. But for me, the difference between an awesome experience and a solemn pledge never, ever, to return to a particular city was often the reaction I got when I asked a local pedestrian, shopkeeper, or tourist office for directions or information. And then I thought of the times I’d been offered a similar opportunity to contribute to a magical travel experience in my own ‘hood, only to decline - albeit politely - if I was in a rush, whether or not I knew the answer. Now, having been on the other side, I will make a great effort to help foreign passersby in whatever way I can. Even if it’s just directing them to someone who might know. You may find yourself a new friend - and potentially a free couch when you’re in their neck of the woods!
4. Forget “Free Speech”; my battle cry is “Free Pees for All!” Or at least for me. It sure is expensive to urinate in Europe. Personally, I feel that $1.53 CAD is simply too much to spend on saving others the trouble of cleaning up after me in public places. So I drank too much water; is that a crime? Look, I understand why they do this. Some people abuse their privileges. Some people can’t aim. Some people think the washrooms are for “washing”. But I’m not some people! I especially - especially! - refuse to pay for pee when I’ve already paid to enter a venue. Just charge me an extra buck in the admission price and I won’t make a fuss! So I just learned to be smart about my consumption of liquid and my patronage of particular establishments. Dehydration isn’t so bad, right? And oh, your crepe stand doesn’t have a toilet? I’m taking my business elsewhere, thank you very much! I’ve peed in the “forest” on the side of the highway before, and I’ll pee in the “forest” on the side of the highway again! Don’t test me!
It doesn't have to make sense...
5. Sorry for the fixation on emptying one’s bladder, but here’s another important lesson: If there’s any room at all in your budget, spring for the Private Bath. It’s really not much fun to wear your slippers and carry your toiletries and try your hardest not to drop the little towel protecting your you-know-whats from you-know-who (creepy single old man traveller in your 6-bed hostel room) and squeezing a change of clothes under your arm while not touching any of those suspiciously curly hairs on the walls… down the hall and out the door and through the refrigeration-standard temperatures of the great outdoors. Got the picture? Don’t scrimp here. If you can muster the discipline to reach deep, deep down into those shallow pockets, fish out your last few €, and forego that second large gelato of the night, you won’t regret it.
6. You can’t see it all - but that’s okay. Last time I checked, each day still had only 24 hours. There’s simply too much to do in that time. And there is no closure when you leave one city for the next. There can never be closure. You have undoubtedly left many stones unturned, many sights unseen, many would-be - could-be - friends… unfriended. But once you redefine your expectations of the experience as hors d’oeuvres rather than the last supper, you relieve yourself of the pressure to see and do everything on those darn Must See lists. The only Must Sees are the ones you actually care to see - not the trendiest, newest art gallery that all your friends won’t want to hear you brag about. Besides, sometimes I just don’t get modern art. I’ve accepted that. You should too. So explore on your own terms, knowing that you just might have to return some day very soon.
7. Be curious. There’s nothing like walking on almost entirely intact structures from thousands of years ago to make you wonder… And it’s perfectly acceptable to feel like a little kid, all wide-eyed and sugar highed, at the museum. Ask how things came to be, how things got to where they are now. How the heck did the contractors who scored the Acropolis gig get all that rock up there? Dream about how things might look in the future. Design your contribution to society, thousands of years on. How will you be remembered? Ponder if Michaelangelo really understood the magnitude of the Sistine Chapel ceiling when he was craning his neck to paint upside down for 4 years. Notice how small you feel (or how small I feel, and not just because I can barely ride the big kid rides at the amusement park). Ask questions.
Shh, don't tell anyone how I got this terrible photograph.
8. No matter where you are, what language you speak, what colour your skin - family trumps all. The common theme I found as I made my way around Europe was that people love their families. They spend time together, nurturing their relationships. They protect their own. Isn’t it funny that such a concept can, at once, bring both peace and war? We’re not so different. If only we could all see that.
9. You don’t need even 1% of what you own. As I packed my bags for the trip, it quickly became apparent that there simply wasn’t enough room for my leather jacket or fancy handbags or gold jewellery or anything that wasn’t completely necessary to survive three months on the road. Naturally, I wondered how I would fare without all my pretty material possessions, the precious treasures I treated as though they were my children. Those who know me best wondered the same. But I very easily survived on less than 1% of my wardrobe. I didn’t have my laptop. I didn’t have my BlackBerry. I didn’t have my fashion magazines. And I didn’t miss any them. (I did, however, have my Uggs.) What I did miss terribly: my family and friends.
10. The end of one adventure is the beginning of your next. I noticed a deep sense of sadness in my heart each time I packed my bags and left one city for another. It’s not as though I’d grown too attached; instead, perhaps I’d become jaded by the inevitability of that particular time in my journey coming to an end, maybe even prematurely. But I learned that each day brings new opportunities to appreciate life in so many ways, regardless of your geographical coordinates. And so, I will appreciate life each day, even if I’m just sitting at my desk, struggling to make my fingers dance across the silver tile floor that is my keyboard, wondering why spilling my guts online seems so foreign after a three-month hiatus. I will appreciate just being.
Life is good.
And a bonus:
11. You can always learn from others. So tell me, what have you learned from your travels?
Entries (RSS)