Travel stirs up my insides. When I am completely and utterly outside of my element, I find that aspects of my life – my habits and thought patterns, even my conscious and unconscious beliefs - become clear to me in ways that they otherwise would not.
I usually discover the most startling insights during the low points: after three flights in one day, after running out of clean underwear, after a night of tossing and turning in a too-soft bed with a lumpy pillow, while being utterly frustrated by my lack of agility with languages: these uncomfortable moments reveal parts of me to myself. Kind and selfish, smooth and warty, flexible and unyielding: it all rises to the surface.
This trip taught me many things – some of them new, some of them reminders of things I knew once but forgot along the way.
Among them:
The most universal language is neither written nor spoken. We are a culture that leads with our heads, that will happily tear someone apart based on an ill-spoken phrase or a poorly written sentence. We forget – I forget – that the most authentic communication is non-verbal. I noticed in Morocco that the people there are skilled at reading faces, motions, body language. They’re adept at reading situations before a single word is spoken. It made me realize that words are a kind of shield for me, a cover that I frequently hide behind. When I don’t have them – that is, when I can’t speak the language – all I have is who I am.
If I had no way to explain myself, would it change the way I live?
Grasping the true essence of a place requires letting go of expectation. Whenever I go somewhere for the first time, I have visions about what it will look like, smell like, taste like. I am always stunned, when I get there, that the place bears only scant resemblance to the pictures in my head. I feel disappointed, almost let down. Expectation is like a fog that clouds my vision.
When I finally get over it, I’m able to see a place for what it IS. Sometimes, this only happens right before I'm about to leave; other times, I catch it early, and therefore enjoy myself more. There is never a problem with the place itself; there is only a problem with me.
I wish that I could skip the disappointment part, and arrive with a totally open mind and heart, willing to see and embrace the reality. Not only when I travel, but also in my everyday life. In relationships, in projects, in situations.
You can never pack too many pairs of underwear or socks. We took a total of 10 flights on this trip. One day, we had three in a row. We slept in 10 different rooms. We packed and unpacked and re-packed our suitcases countless times. No matter how dirty or crumpled my clothes got, I felt just fine if I had fresh undies and socks. When I ran out, well: that wasn't a good day. Let's just say that I made use of the hotel sink and bottle of shampoo.
Always take your own tea bags. There may be millions of pounds of good tea on the planet, but most restaurants and airport lounges haven’t gotten their shipment yet. I’ve never seen so many Lipton and Twinings tea bags as I did on this trip. Too many cups of bad tea were lesson enough that I’ll be packing my own next time around.
Philosopher Martin Buber once said that "all journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware." These revelations are some of my internal destinations that I could only reach when my outer self traveled far, far away.
