Travel Time

The day I moved into my dorm at UC Irvine, I began a period of restlessness.  The longest I lived anywhere in the 10 years since that fateful day was 3 and a half years with Rick in our Santa Ana apartment.  Now, on this trip, that restlessness has only intensified.  I recently commented to Rick, while standing in the middle of the Mongolian steppes, hip-high grasses rustling in the wind, blue sky arching overhead in a perfect dome, "You know, three weeks seem like forever now to me.  Every three weeks, I think we should move on now.  What are we going to do when we settle back wherever we end up?  How will we feel after 3 months?  Or 3 years?"

I’ve heard that people who spend their whole lives travelling, who make a profession or a lifestyle out of never staying put, they forget how to settle down.  They don’t know how to find peace in one place anymore.  And I used to think I could never reach that point.  But, now, I can empathize.  Because, long-term travelling seems to operate on a different sort of time scale.  It’s simultaneously faster and slower, a strange sideways sort of feeling.  Faster, because there is so much to do, and it’s always a surprise when night creeps upon us signaling that another day has ended.  There’s no regular rhythm as there is with work or school, no reason to mark each day except making sure we end up at the airport on the day our ticket states.  So, the days pass in a blur, no Mondays to complain of, or Saturdays to look forward to.  It’s just a day like any other.  And it’s a little sad, to lose that sense of anticipation or that feeling of satisfaction in completing another week.  Yet, each day is fully savored, the way a good dish of food is savored, slowly, eyes squinted in enjoyment, scent filling up my skull, taste bursting along every tastebud, the sensation of warmth sliding along my throat.  In this way, each day passes slower, because we are more aware of each moment.  It’s not something to push through to get one day closer to the weekend or some special event.  It’s an event unto itself. 

After a certain amount of time, we have enough of one flavor and start craving anew.  We want to see a different sort of culture or people or food, and our feet start getting antsy.  There’s so much to see out there, so much to experience.  Sometimes, I become overwhelmed by the sheer amount of THINGS in this world to experience and am startled by how few years I have left in my life (a ridiculous thing to say for someone of my still relatively-tender age, I know).  So, yes, I know how easy it would be for me to think, "One more thing to see.  One more thing to do," and never stop travelling my whole entire life.  I haven’t reached that point.  I don’t know if I ever will.  But, I now understand why others dedicate their lives wholly to traveling the world.