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February 04, 2006
Why I Love Travel
I was struck by the recent entries by Mr. Bad Apologies and Ms. NYC Rouge about their hometown love for D.C. and NYC, respectively. I thought they captured the essence of how each city is different, and each has a way of fulfilling needs in a unique way.
I wanted to write something similar, but realized that I don't have an abiding passion for the near-city suburbs where I live. I tell people I'm "from the D.C. area", and only when pressed do I specify the actual location. Not that it's unpleasant or somehow distasteful to live in Bethesda. In fact, it's close to the metro (giving me quick access to the "real" D.C.) and has a plethora of restaurants that cater to every palate. It's just a hop, skip, and jump away from the beltway and I-270, making it convenient to Virginia, as well as farther-out suburbs that would be an abhorrent thought from the center of the city.
And yet...
It's not home. Not that I can readily identify a place called "home". The house in Maryland where I spent the majority of my K-12 education was nice, but I don't feel nostagic for the uber-suburbia life it presented. College in Oregon was a blip on the radar--living in a dorm room, sharing an apartment, and having my own studio apartment, all in the space of 2.5 years, did not exactly cement the place in my memory--not to mention the summers in Japan (which, although splendid in an easy-access-to-boys way, was not "home" either). From there, I spent a year in San Diego, where living with my parents and working a meaningless job weren't exactly the way I planned to start of my glamorous 20s, thus driving me to Blacksburg, Virginia for graduate school.
What was supposed to be a 2 year program, I managed to squeeze into a single 12-month period, including a 3 month stint in the D.C.-region satellite facility. I moved into an apartment with Ms. Wish to See, where we happily lived for 2 years before I decided to get into the property game.
My condo (how I so quickly managed to fill a 3-bedroom, 2-bath place still boggles my mind) was an oasis, a time when I finally felt like I was a "real" adult--but living in Silver Spring never felt like my real "home". So after 18 months, when I was desperate to leave my job, I jumped at the chance to go to Sweden for a year.
Selling my condo and spending the year in Sweden was both the best decision and one I will always question. The opportunity to travel around Europe, think about BIG issues, and meet my fellow classmates was an invaluable experience. On the other hand, the academic program itself, the loss of income, the sale of my home, and my lack of direction upon returning to the United States was disappointing and potentially disastrous.
And once again, here I am with itchy feet, wanting to get out of my rut (can 6 months in one place really be a rut?) and travel. It's not like I have the income, or need, to make this 4-week trip to Europe. In fact, it would probably be a MUCH smarter move to stay put in my little room and diligently work on the Big Idea.
But something drives me to get out and see what I can see. I look around and wonder why everyone isn't hankering to hop on a plane at the first opportunity. Instead, I see plenty of friends who are content to plan a wedding, work their jobs, and play with their dogs. Am I missing something? Is there contentment in the little things that I'm just not getting?
Maybe by traveling I'm searching for something that's missing in my life. Or maybe I'm just clued in to something that most Americans are missing. Meeting fellow travelers (none of whom are from the United States, at least on this trip), has made me realize just how isolated we are in terms of worldviews--even those of us who label ourselves "liberal". While I considered myself fairly up to date with world politics (I suppose I'm predisposed, given my political science and international relations background), I'm constantly amazed to see the hidden viewpoints so eloquently revealed by citizen travelers. It's something missing in the newspaper articles that I think America very much needs right now.
So for now, I'm happy to be homeless--or at least recognizing that my place in the world is a temporary one, and that there's a trip just around the corner.
Comments
It's almost like we had a Web Ring topic . . .
Posted by: Ms. Post No Bills at February 4, 2006 10:47 AM
It's been my experience that citizens of other nations are just as uninformed about the US as the US is about other countries. They think they're informed, based on what they've heard from their media (and ours!) but the picture can wind up skewed in interesting ways. My personal favorite story from when I was overseas was about a decade or so ago while my family was visiting Germany and were waiting in line to go up into a famous tower in Munich. The tourists in line with us were from a number of nations and the nice British couple behind us asked where we were from in the States. We replied "Harrisburg, Pennsylvania." It's the state capital, so it's possible they'd have heard of it. Nothing. "Three Mile Island is there." Bing! Instant recognition from most people in earshot, then the furtive glances to see if we were glowing in the dim hallway.
Posted by: Rich at February 4, 2006 04:32 PM
I think what you're not getting is that planning a wedding, working our jobs, and playing with our dogs are not "little things" to us.
Posted by: Mary at February 4, 2006 05:21 PM
I think traveling the world is both a privilege and a penance. Privilege because few can afford it and, as you've pointed out, it exposes you to so many worthwhile perspectives you might not otherwise get. Penance because, unless you intend to maintain the world traveler lifestyle, you're really just voluntarily punishing yourself...how much more difficult will it be for you to return to Maryland now and work a job, hang with your cats and ...get married someday???
Posted by: Amy at February 4, 2006 09:04 PM
(typing from a kiosk stand in lucerne)
My whole point is that EVERYTHING seems like a ¨little thing¨ from the other side of the world. Things that I normally think are important seem to shrink in urgency and relevance. Whenever I get back, I am able to enjoy the Big Idea, playing with my cats, and even dating (no marriage plans in the forseeable future, so dating is as close to wedding planning as I can get right now)...but after a couple months, it all starts to seem silly.
As Amy points out, its very sad to realize how exensive the whole travel thing is. I have just now decided to turn down a conference appearance in Graz (which could EASILY have turned into a whole new trip in April) because of cost. Guess I had better find a way to enjoy the suburbs, since it looks like I will be there for a while.
Posted by: Ms. Write Again Soon at February 5, 2006 04:13 PM
