28:
I’m a solo traveler, but I’m never alone. Let me explain.
I flew to India by myself with a one-way ticket to the Philippines. I’m in this adventure myself. I don’t have a travel partner to worry about or have to compromise my plans for. The things I do and the places I see are completely up to me to decide and plan.
Travel Groups
Despite all that, I have chosen to travel with travel groups, or organized tours so that I wouldn’t have to experience a country by myself. India was my first country outside of the Philippines and USA–where I was born and where I grew up, respectively–that I’ve traveled to, and I chose to do it solo. I joined a volunteer group which is to say that I had to pay for my volunteer experience. There are much cheaper ways to volunteer for free, but you won’t get them in groups! Think of volunteer groups as an alternative tourist package. I met a lot of interesting and new friends that I can come home to (“home” is subjective but in this case, the states) and hope to see again. Deciphering India by myself seemed way too overwhelming to me as a newbie traveler so I joined a group. There’s no shame in travel groups and tours! I like to experience something different than the usual tourist, and I tend to think of “tourist” as an insult, but when it comes down to it, travel groups can be useful ways to see a country. The advantage of groups is that you don’t have to worry about planning the trip; the trip is planned for you! This is a huge plus for someone like me, who is a horrible planner that it’s a wonder I even got this far and made it to the other side (of the world). With groups, you can sit back and relax and trust that things are taken care of. No stress!
During my experience, we had host families so that we could experience cultural immersion rather than a cold, westernized hotel room. I shared the home-living experience with three other volunteers and I will never forget the warm hospitality of drinking masala tea served every morning by our host dad. We were allowed to go out after our volunteer hours and explore the city by ourselves. Again, with the volunteers that I learned to love, I was never alone in the whirlwind of busy streets and chaotic traffic.
Expat Life
I don’t know whether I should call myself a traveler or an ex-pat. I’m stuck between the concept of “traveling” and the concept of “moving” to another place. But one thing is clear: I am a nomad. With my one-way ticket to the Philippines, I showed up in the airport with my signature dirty feet leftover from India’s dust and met my extended family. I must have looked like a total bum but I’m used to it now. How to travel in style is definitely not my forte and I’m left to throwing my previous work/consumption lifestyle completely away and sometimes wishing I had it all back just so that I could feel a bit more “put together”. For two months, I was at constant attention around my family when I found a Chinese Buddhist retreat (Ch’an style, which is the same as Japanese Zen) to whisk me away for four months at the temple in the world’s 3rd largest Catholic country. The journey there was accompanied by another girl who had joined the retreat and who I met prior during our interview. I always try to find ways to travel with others despite being a “solo” traveler, and my aunts make sure I’m being properly chaperoned in their overprotective way that makes me feel I am 17 again, and not 27.
Based in a temple, I was constantly around people 24/7 and living with 8-12 others in the program. We started in Bacolod City, Philippines and ended up in Manila. Six of us decided to take the opportunity to go to Taiwan for more temple hopping as we stayed in the headquarter monastery and then took an organized tour. I am now based in Manila, back in the temple, and volunteering while I figure out my next moves financially. I’m setting up a bit of a home-base here while I figure out dual-citizenship so I can be more of a global citizen. International and all that.
Friendships and Affinities
As I make friends along my journey, being alone is never an issue. Whenever I go out, I am always in the company of other people and the rare times that I am not, I take my own cab or walk the city streets as if it were my home. And it is, for now. The key to traveling solo and never being alone is creating friendships and affinities with people, both locals and travelers. I think of my current life as akin to moving to a new place on my own. Do you make new friends? Find local events and groups? I’m comfortable alone just as much as I’m comfortable with people. Sometimes, I’m even more comfortable alone than with people due to my introverted tendencies. Traveling gives you a bigger playing field but to me it’s just the same as moving to a new place and making new friends. The trick is being on the move, and finding opportunities with others that involve new places and adventures.
22:
I’m taking a long fucking stroll to nowhere. It’s been over 6 months of funemployment and I’m still surviving. Thriving. But how do you move across the world with no money, no job, and survive? I know my circumstances are unique. Not everyone can just up and move across the world. Quit their jobs, sell their possessions. I flew to Asia with less than $1,000 to my name and no plans on when to return. Is it clueless? Is it stupid? Is it crazy? I got more funds since then but the need for funds to keep me afloat is daunting my sense of time and space. With November looming ahead, my student loans which are currently frozen, will begin again.
I can’t speak for others, but I can only provide my own experience. With no formal plans on my travel adventures, I found myself in situations that provided me the most optimal ways of living and traveling on the cheap.
Traveling on the Cheap
For four months, I’ve been living in Buddhist temples to study Mandarin Chinese, Buddhism, and practice meditation. This zen retreat program has been entirely free of charge and I’m grateful for the experience. It has been life changing and I can honestly say that I feel like a new woman. More on that later. Living under the monastery walls has kept me well fed, a budding vegetarian, and my basic needs taken care of, and then some. For four months, my spending has been next to none. Small monthly allowances were given, and I felt a sense of productivity, responsibility and minor volunteering that could carry over as skills in the “real world”.
On August 6th, having been associated with the temple, I got an opportunity to fly to Taiwan where I’m currently at, and attend an International Youth Seminar Buddhist conference at the headquarter monastery for the Buddhist organization that sponsored the zen retreat. The cost of the plane ticket was the only expense I needed to worry about which is a lot cheaper since I’m already in SE Asia. Some spending money for Taiwan was provided by the temple, as well as a scholarship grant of $300 from the conference (an unexpected surprise) that covered the cost of my plane ticket and then some. Yes, I’m bragging, but this experience has been entirely FREE.
Couchsurfing
For those who are unenlightened, couchsurfing is a website network that links travelers together for free accommodations and newfound friends. The idea of sleeping at a stranger’s home might sound weary to some, but the site is set up like a Facebook page for travelers. People can add comments about each other to review their experience and rate you as “positive” or “negative”. The more positive reviews you get, the more trustworthy you seem to others. The network also has an optional system for validating your identities. The opportunity to meet new people–strangers–means the opportunity for making friends.
While I have little personal experience with couchsurfing, I have met many avid couchsurfers who travel solely using this network and live by it as a valid nomad lifestyle. It is a great way to share cultures, make new friends, and travel cheaply.
Freelancing
Freelancing keeps me afloat and gives me enough funds to survive, though not enough to live on should I decide to go back to the decadent American lifestyle. My skills are already set and primed for a travel/nomad lifestyle. Everything I can do is online-based. From web design, social media, graphic design and writing, the myriad of options that I have are optimal for all sorts of projects. Now I just have to implement them, start working, build up my funds to travel sufficiently, and start moving again.
A Long Stroll to Nowhere
The longer I’m in Asia, the more the nomadic lifestyle appeals to me as a longer-term way of life. No permanent address, but “homebases” in the Philippines and Oregon, where my family lives, respectively. It’s a dynamic way to live. Where complacency and being static and “settling down” are scary concepts for me, the exact opposite is where my heart is. Home isn’t a place for me now, but a sense of contentedness in people and my changing surroundings.
I prefer slower travel. Staying in one place from six months to one year at a time. Hopping around and exploring each countries’ surroundings while finding a temporary base to live. Sometimes, I feel like a loser at life because I don’t have anything that I could call a “career” at this point, and my state of confusion over what to do with my life is constantly on my mind. But what I’m doing now is perfect, and at the end of the day, I still have a roof over my head and food to eat. I don’t aspire for material wealth, and poverty is a choice. My life is new and exciting every day, filled with good people and lots of laughter. I’m rarely alone, and rarely lonely. I can’t say I have much to complain about.
16:
I’m a newbie traveler. The kind of newbie traveler that’s traversed back and forth from the Pacific Northwest and tropical Cebu, Philippines so many times its become my 2nd home, visited Canada once when I was too young to remember, and saw India for the first time January of this year. I’m not sure if you can really call that a newbie traveler, but it feels like it sometimes. I haven’t seen beautiful African sunsets, backpacked through Europe, or trekked to Macchu Picchu. But already, this taste of adventure has got me hooked for more.
I’m falling off the deep end. Wondering when my traveling adventure will end and finding myself not wanting it to. Dreaming of being a professional nomad. The kind of nomad with no permanent address or place to call home. Who only sets foot on American soil as a visitor, or for that matter, anywhere, as a Visitor. Who weaves in and out of people’s lives with no sense of permanency. Then I think, that’s crazy, and what am I trying to run away from? Or what am I trying to run *towards*? It’s a valid lifestyle for some people, but is it the right lifestyle for me? The further off the deep end you go, the harder it is to find someone worth sharing your adventures with. I might as well call it early and claim my Spinster role. I won’t be joining the monastery, but in the name of Feminism, I’ll reclaim the Spinster! Except, I don’t want to be a spinster. Not really.
I think about how I want to be part of community and a family. That can’t be right because they’re two opposing lifestyles. The dilemma that has always been my dilemma is my contradictory nature. This brash, black and white thinking that leaves me all sorts of confused and unable to decipher what the hell I really want. Probably, somewhere half way. Meet me in the middle in the shades of gray. That sounds cheesy and poetic but what I mean is I want some sort of compromise. I don’t want to give up my wanderlust, but I don’t want to hide from possibility and potential, either. I don’t want to quit before it can even start. So, I don’t want to be a spinster.
What I’m talking about is commitment. Attachment. Detachment. Maybe the long-term nomadic lifestyle isn’t about commitment-phobia for some people, but I know it would be for me. At what point does travel become an excuse to ignore commitments? Not just love. Certainly, love. But the “real world”, student loans, work? Travel, for me, cannot come from a place of hiding, running away from, whatever it is I want to avoid. Because, as they say, “wherever you go, there you are.”
I’m constantly evaluating myself and my motives. I don’t want to run away. That’s not what this is all about. I want to run towards and confront who I am and who I’m meant to be. I’m discovering my Authentic Self. And with all of the potential and possibilities right within my reach, I owe it to myself not to quit. I can’t. I’ve barely even begun. The moment travel becomes about avoiding commitment, I reshape my motives and change it. That doesn’t mean flying back home… It just means taking the plunge. Whatever it may be. You have to have some faith. Trust that everything will work out and do everything you can within your control to shape it, guide it along the process. Trust the process.
Reclaiming the spinster is quitting on love, and I don’t want to quit on that, especially. I’ve been burned before but it makes me appreciate love more. Appreciate my teachers (read: exes) and lessons that I’ve learned. There will always be “failures” but that just leaves more room for success. The more you fail, the closer you are to success. With anything.
The best way to deal with commitment-phobia or paralysis of any kind is to simply commit. Do the work. Write 800 words a day. Meditate daily. Practice yoga 5x a week. Be creative. Love someone. Whatever it is, do it. Do what you’ve committed yourself to doing. Don’t hold back. Don’t judge. Shut-up your inner critic and commit.
Realize that it will be hard, and that’s normal. Realize that you will want to quit, and continue doing it. Pushing through the disillusionment will take you to the sweet spot of awareness. That’s where Truth starts to happen, and you can journey closer to your Authentic Self.
12:
Sunset at the temple.
I’m on a pilgrimage, of sorts.
You’re probably thinking, well, duh, why else would I be at a Zen monastery for 4 months? Obvious, right? But It’s taken me awhile to fully realize this and take it in. When I bought my one-way tickets to India and the Philippines, I had absolutely no plans other than the 3 weeks that I spent as an experiential tourist volunteering at a slum school. The Philippines was completely open. I knew I wanted to stay here for at least a year, and eventually work towards a location independent career, but I’ve been taking my sweet time enjoying my career break/sabbatical instead. It’s not easy acknowledging I’m on a break, and I had no idea I would ever be joining a monastery to do so. After all, admitting myself to a nunnery would definitely be out of the question. I’m NOT Catholic and it takes a better person than myself to admit themselves to a religious experience other than their own (not that I’m Buddhist, but pretty close). This unexpected path has taken my pilgrimage from conceptual to reality.
Many people seem to travel on a pilgrimage. “The gap year” is the ultimate way for seekers and searchers to discover about themselves; what their passions are, what they’d like to do with life. At 27, I guess I’m taking my gap year a bit “late”, but I’ve learned to accept that I’m a late bloomer. And really, who’s to say what late is, as if there’s a specific timeline for these things? A specific set path? I knew long ago that I wasn’t going on the fast track of college, career, marriage, house and kids. Standard and traditional is just not for me.
Eat, Pray, Love
Elizabeth Gilbert took her “gap year” in her mid thirties. Her pilgrimage turned into a delightful memoir, Eat, Pray, Love, that I read after the demise of my own relationship. While I already “knew” that I would journey back to Asia before reading the book, her words inspired me to make my thoughts reality. It’s completely surreal to me that I’m now having my own eat, pray, love journey of my own, sans the foreign lover, of course.
I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to “find”. Purpose, maybe. A meaning to this insignificant speck of the universe that is my existence. Some people might say this is the quarter-life “crisis” but I refuse to believe that life is a crisis as I am having the time of my life (cue Green Day song). Some days, it can seem daunting, like when I’m thinking about becoming a freelancer. Other days, it can seem exciting, like when I’m thinking about becoming a freelancer… It depends where my mind is. Sometimes, being in limbo feels like the scariest, most unstable place to be and other times, I feel blessed to have such great opportunities for exploration. Pushing through the transition phase can be tough. Focusing on the process, moving forward each day with your goals, is a great way to take control of your life and be happy. It’s not about finding purpose, but creating it.
Walk for Peace
Adding to my Pilgrimage repertoire, I have the chance to go on a 280 mile walk around the island of Palawan with a local. Just walking. While living in a monastery is quite possibly the craziest thing I’ve ever done, walking 280 miles might top it. With nothing but the stars and night sky as our blanket, the idea would be to interact with communities and people that we meet along our travels; offering them lessons that we would share for free. Things like yoga, martial arts, meditation. I haven’t decided yet if I’ll take the plunge. It’s quite possibly the craziest and scariest thing I’ve ever thought of doing. Oh, but it would be great blog (and life) fodder! What about that business idea I’ve been thinking about? It’d be great fodder for that too…
24:
Imagine being discontent with life working in X humdrum job in X corporation and deciding to leave your whole life behind, walking out the door with only $150 to your name, and never looking back. For two plus years, the only life you’ll know is the road, hitchhiking your way from place to place, friendly strangers who change your life, a mix of couchsurfing experiences and different cultures along the way.
With a dream to one day set foot in India, Artyom, a fellow traveler in the Buddhist monastery retreat, has done just that. His story starts from Russia, into the harsh, unforgiving cold winters of Siberia, crossing the border into China, and receiving $100 from a helpful stranger which would be the exact cost of a ticket to the Philippines. With details aside, his story can be echoed in the past with the beatnik generation, a la Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, or in the wanderlust and adventure of Alexander Supertramp (of Into the Wild postmortem fame). Many have felt the call of the road or the nomadic call for travel, and many will continue to as job security continues to fail and global technologies and location independent careers make long term travel more accessible. Whether you are a hitchhiker, couchsurfer, backpacker, flashpacker or location independent professional nomad, the seeds of dissatisfaction from the status-quo bind together as the impetus for change; a change of scenery, sights, sounds, smells and people.
Travel, in and of itself, has a very Zen-like quality. The impermanence of travel teaches us to be aware of our constantly new surroundings and live more easily in the moment, but travel on the road adds a whole new dimension. Leaving all wordly possessions behind, even selling all your furniture as I’ve done, marks an emptying of your self; a letting go of your past life as you once knew it. Being able to “lose yourself” to find yourself. It is a road–a journey–into emptiness.
Emptying Your Cup
A university professor went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the professor talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor’s cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. “It’s overfull! No more will go in!” the professor blurted. “You are like this cup,” the master replied, “How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup.” – Zen Koan
Emptying your cup means letting go of all past knowledge and perceptions and allowing yourself to look at life and experiences with fresh “new” eyes. It is not a negation of the self, but a full embracing of the self and humanity. Be like a sponge to new experiences, places, and people. Realize that all people are mostly good, and have faith in humanity. The road to emptiness is a minimalistic approach to a Zen lifestyle and the road an excellent Zen teacher. It takes a complete leap of faith to trust in the kindness of strangers, and the randomness of the Universe. Hitchhiking is the “hardest” form of travel, but in many ways can also be the most rewarding.
Sometimes You Have to Lose Yourself to Find Yourself
Getting lost is all part of the journey. When I broke up with an ex almost 2 years ago, we co-habited together and shared a mortgage. I moved out, and he kept most of our acquired furniture and possessions. For me, letting go of the possessions was liberating myself from a past life. I didn’t want to deal with “fairness” and equal splitting because I came in with little possessions and left with less. For me, It only solidified the fact that I was the drifter coming into his life. When I sold and gave away most of my remaining possessions to help get me to Asia, it was another load off my proverbial chest. I was prepared to get even more lost than ever before. I guess popular culture calls this the “quarter-life crisis” (I’m past the quarter century mark but it’s been building up since then) but for me, life is no longer a state of crisis. I’m enjoying every minute of being “lost” and I don’t want to be found!
Letting go of my possessions and of my self, “emptying my cup”, has been essential in helping me find out who I am, what my passions are and what drives me. It’s been nearly two months at the monastery. Two months of seeing transcendence in the mundane. Two months of routine in the presence. Two months of a vastly different life. Two years ago, I was living in my own house. A year ago, I was living with two gay guys and their three male cats and a whole new group of friends. Who am I? Am I lost? I don’t even know what my “real life” is anymore because each year is so vastly different. Empty my cup. Live in the moment.
The Road to Emptiness
My own journey is still at the monastery, but in August, I will be going to Taiwan for another monastery stay at their headquarter temple. After that, my wanderlust soul is tempted to walk the entire island of Palawan, Philippines with a local. The journey would be 280 miles of jungle and beaches. Since Palawan is the least developed island of the Philippines, it is also one of the most gorgeous. The vision is that we would journey on a “peace walk”. Traveling, teaching and exchanging our various skills to the people we meet along our way. He is skillfully trained in Kali/Eskrima, a Filipino Martial Art style that was most notably used for the training of Matt Damon’s role in the Bourne Identity trilogies. Learning Filipino martial arts was also part of my bucket list for the year and he’s mentioned that we could train. If this is the Road to Emptiness and learning how to let go of the self, it sounds good to me! Experiencing culture in an intimate way, on foot, with cool, clear night skies and the stars as our blanket is something no tourist rarely sees.
One thing Artyom lives by when on the road is the philosophy that asking for help is completely OK and necessary. What’s the worst that can happen when you ask for help? Either they say yes and you get what you want or they say no and you carry on as before. You don’t lose anything with the no but you gain so much with a simple yes. Faith is tested while you’re on the road. The age old rules of “do unto others what you would have them do unto you” and “you sow what you reap” is part of the exchange. Being on the road is a karmic system. Do good deeds and treat others kindly. If you give genuine kindness without expecting anything in return, situations will start turning in your favor. This is the Zen lessons of the road.
20:
I can barely sleep on the night before my travel to Negros island in the Philippines. My life is about to change dramatically, unlike I have ever known it before. 5am and I’m up. Was I ever really sleeping? My family packs me a lunch of spam sandwich stacked with three slices of bread instead of two in Philippine’s most charming white “Wonder” bread. They must think the extra slice will fill me up better, but I don’t eat it. One of the most hated processed meats in the States is a common meal: SPAM. Siao Pao (Chinese steamed bun with meat filling) makes its way into the plastic lunch bag. Two fresh eggs from the chickens my uncle owns, and three tangerines. I know this will be the last time I eat meat again for the next four months. Maybe longer. Who knows if I’ll keep this up?
The ride is surprisingly easy, but long. A simple one hour bus ride to Cebu City followed by a two hour bus ride to the Toledo docks where a ferry boat boards land transportation and people to the neighboring island, another two hour fare. Transportation in the Philippines isn’t fast, and after the ferry lands, we’re faced with another two hour adventure across Negros’ mountainous terrain along the windiest roads I have ever been on. At least we have air conditioner. The bus slowly lugs along up and around and up and around, with no railing along cliffs and barely a shoulder outlooking my right side window. The dizzying, ear-shifting altitude is worth it as we near lush green rice fields; one of the prettiest sites I’ve seen in the Philippines yet.
My travel companion, Beau and I discuss our histories, past relationships, non-conformism. We’re different and we know it. That’s why we’re here, I guess. Looking for different experiences. Looking for questions. Looking for answers. Wondering what truth is. The parallels in our lives intersect in this moment and we’ve got synchronicity. I assume that’s what binds us all together in the next coming months.
A Chinese woman comes to pick us up from the bus station not long after our final arrival. We’re whisked away in an air conditioned van with two female monks, an older Chinese woman, and a young man in his early twenties, Dave, who has helped coordinate and gather all the students to the program. Six plus hours of straight travel and I am tired. It’s dinnertime and I graciously accept my first vegetarian meal. Noodles, rice and a leafy soup. Four straight months of this vegetarianism and Chan (Zen) Buddhist lifestyle. The world is a trip.
I eagerly bite into a vibrant looking baby carrot floating in the soup. I love carrots and this one tastes especially feisty. So feisty that its burning my mouth and making my eyes water. In my tired, post-trip daze, I had eaten a red jalepeño! For someone who hates spicy food and tries to avoid it whenever possible, this was my first experience with a red pepper. They told us one of the cultural customs here at the temple is to finish everything on your plate, so make sure you dish out exactly what you need. I graciously tried to swallow down the pepper and offered a grimaced smile while I grabbed for my glass of water. My first day and I was already getting a Buddhist lesson: mindfulness. Be mindful of the food you eat and put into your mouth. Know that a carrot is actually a carrot, and not a pepper. A tired body is no excuse for a tired mind.
29:
Lately, I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. Like I’m Alice in Wonderland and growing giant way too fast for my self to catch up. Like these growing pains are leaps and bounds and I don’t know what to do with myself. Like my soul is stretching and my body feels awkward housing it.
Down the Rabbit Hole
It’s all down the rabbit hole from here. I don’t know which way is up or down anymore. Nothing makes sense except for the will to keep going, learning, and discovering. Discovering that I have a strong personality, and fierce independence that makes me proud of where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. Discovering that I am happy, despite the overwhelming confusion. Discovering that who I am is enough.
Traveling to Asia and seeing what life has in store for me has been a whirlwind. For a self-proclaimed homebody (and I’ve been keeping to my word here), I have found that I have an adventurous side that loves to travel and discover. I am full of paradoxes, and a traveling homebody is just one of many. I’m off the deep end now. About to leave for a Zen/Buddhist monastery in less than 24 hours. My thirst for travel getting stronger.
I guess what I mean to say is goodbye. I don’t know. I don’t know how else to write without sounding like fluttering butterflies and hearts and wings. I can’t help that I’m a romantic. And that I’m a dreamer with my head in the clouds, and my foot reluctantly planted on the ground. I can’t help that I wish for things like epiphanies and true presence. I have no idea what I’ll get out of my experience in the next four months of asceticism, or what exactly it is that I’m “searching” for, but I come with no expectations.
Here’s to chasing rabbits.
26:
I was on the bus, in transit to my next destination. A fellow traveler was seated on the back of the bus while I was closer towards the middle. Gathering my cumbersome luggage close to me, I tried to surround myself in such a way that would make it hard to make a sudden steal. I thought about my next destination, and all of a sudden realized that I didn’t have my ticket ready. Usually, I try to place my ticket and important documents in a handy place that I can easily get to once out of transit, but my ticket, or passport, was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t a matter of not packing it, because I knew I had. It was a matter of remembering where I put it; I couldn’t find it anywhere. Frantically, I checked all my luggage zippers with no luck. The disorganization of my packing skills, and how I couldn’t seem to trust my memory, was making me panic. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t even know where I was going or what my next destination was. In the back of my head, I thought I had a flight to China to catch, but I couldn’t be too sure, and I had no luck recalling any details without an e-ticket in front of me. I looked over at my friend at the back of the bus, wishing I could just merge my trip with his, even for just a few days, but I had no room for a long layover. I had to get to my next destination, if only I knew where that was…
* * *
I awoke from the bad dream wondering if I really did have a plane to catch to China sometime soon, and had to shake it off. The truth is, I’m not a smart traveler. I don’t do all the tips and tricks they tell you to do to help pack for your trip. I don’t have a moneybelt. I don’t keep extra credit cards and money in a separate place. I don’t have a compressor. Nor do I keep myself sprayed with Deet to keep mosquitos away, or take malaria pills, or buy a year’s worth of travel insurance (with four months isolated to a monastery, I think I’ll be OK).
My hand purse is a small little thing with no fastener to close it shut. While I’m aware this can be a pick pocketer’s dream, my trick is to place the bag over my shoulder with the flap side facing my armpit. That way if anyone tries to mess with me, they have to go through my armpit first, in which case I’ll have already punched them in the face and drop kicked their nuts (or something like that).
Dream Interpretation
Kidding aside, this dream uncovered an obvious anxiousness for my next destination, and of the many unknowns that surround my life. It expressed a wanting to share my load in this journey, knowing that I have to traverse alone. It’s an unconfidence, maybe, of traveling solo. Despite adopting the “wherever the wind blows me” mindset, I still struggle, sometimes, worrying about what lays around the bend. I have no foresight, but neither does anyone else, no matter how structured and rigid you are to planning. Sometimes, I guess I just wish I was a little more organized. As willing as I am to put myself into new situations and places, I still fear the unknown. It is this fear that propels me forward.
Packing
In three days, I will be traveling to my next destination at the Zen monastery where I will be staying for four months. I won’t be entirely alone; I’ll be meeting a local girl who’s doing the program as well, at the local bus terminal. From there, we’re taking the ferry and hopping islands to our destination, where a pick-up service is already arranged for us. Not so hard, right? But the anxiousness of getting from here to there always gets me.
I won’t be taking all my stuff. We’re required to wear uniforms at the monastery (not to be confused by monk gowns, which it is not) so I will need very little change of clothes. Toiletries. Flip-flops. A book or two and my journal and pen. My laptop (don’t expect you’ll be getting rid of me so easily!). And camera.
I’ve thought about the possibility of some light traveling after my stay. Most likely, island hopping in the Philippines so the idea of a few more extra clothes shouldn’t be a bad idea. It could be a mini backpacking adventure, or I could just go directly back to my family. For some reason, the scaredy cat in me wants to pick the former.
How do you approach packing for a trip?
25:
“Good morning, baby,” Raj would say bringing a tray with masala chai tea to my bed. He had this way of talking like we were all brothers and sisters and his terms of endearment extended to us like family. “Time to wake up.” In a groggy mess, I’d accept the tea and place it on the headboard of the bed while I allowed myself a few more minutes to fully wake up. Shannon, another volunteer that shared the bed with me did the same–neither one of us “morning people”–while the two male volunteers sipped their teas in the other room.
This was our morning ritual.
The house would wake up. Our host family would prepare our breakfast. An egg omelet sandwich or chapati bread with potatoes. A second helping of masala tea. Benji, their six year-old son, would prepare for school. Subha, the mother, would bring him to school while Raj, the three other volunteers and I would walk the ten minutes to the local slums.
It’s so hard to formulate thoughts into sentences sometimes. Especially with something as complex and chaotic as India. You can’t escape the dirt there. Travel guide books show colorful pictures of pristine streets and happy people. Don’t believe it. India is dirty. Garbage littered everywhere. Dirt and dust from undeveloped sidewalks. Wearing flip-flops, as I did, you’re bound to get your feet covered in dirt and your toenails lined with black grit. Yet for all of the mixed feelings; as varied as the mixed smells, I do love it. There’s something quite magical and intangible about India that pulls me back. That remains a part of me. That lets me know India has my heart.
Embracing our dirtyness.
As we approach the dirt mounds that line the entrance of the slums, kids play cricket and bathe outside. Poverty greets me left and right as most of the kids staring back at us do not have shoes. Tiny huts made of dirt or mud or brick come at me left and right, as I walk one foot after the other on the dirt path. Of course, they don’t really come at me but that is how it feels like when you’re just concentrating on looking straight ahead, trying to block your mind from thoughts going overdrive to an environment Western eyes do not usually see. Trying not to become emotional. Putting your game face on and your mind on automatic. Step left, step right…
When we reach the slum school the kids are already seated and cheerfully greet us with smiles.
“Good morning, mam! Good morning, sir!”
It is like there is an invisible wall where the school is. Conducted entirely outside, some village bystanders watch “outside” of the school parameters. Donated desks–most falling apart–are what the children use as some cram two to three to a seat. The class is divided into two groups. Small kids, ranging from aged 5 to 7 and big kids, from 8 to 10. I handle the little kids and teach them English one desk at a time. They all cram towards me holding their notebooks out to show me their homework. With no teaching experience, babysitting experience, or much kid experience at all, it is exhausting to have them flock towards me.
Kids are kids no matter what part of the world you’re in. There are always going to be your typical troublemakers at the back of the class or the teacher’s pet working diligently on her studies. Despite the poverty, and their constantly runny noses visibly dripping snot, they seemed genuinely happy, especially when involved in playtime. With the simplicities of life in the slums, kids still find a way to shine through their resilient spirits.
Children at play.
22:
The art of travel is veering from your plans, or having no plans at all.
There is recent talk around the travel blogosphere about this travel tip that I hold dear to the life journey, in general. Really, it’s a wonder that I even got here to this place. Asia, India, my homeland. I am a horrible planner that breaks up in sweats at the thought of itinerary and planning. It’s not that I don’t have a lack of ideas, or know how to use a good travel guide every once in awhile. It’s the execution of plans that I fret and stress about. It’s the logistics of the matter.
Wherever the Wind Blows Me
It is no secret that going from point A to point B has never been my forte. In college, I chalked this up to being guided by my “inner compass” rather than making plans up front. In this way, I have adopted my travel style the same way I’ve adopted my lifestyle. “Wherever the wind blows me.” If the art of travel is veering from plans, then I am a natural artist. I simply make it up as I go along. This allows me to set my own pace and be open to opportunities that have life changing potential. It allows me the chance to adopt to new cultures in an Anthropological way that helps bridge gaps of communication. For this method of travel, and life philosophy to work, there’s still a few guidelines that have helped me out.
Thought Bubbles
Ideas need time to bubble. What people normally refer to as making goals, I like to refer to as “thought bubbles”. Essentially a brainstorming process, thought bubbles let you realize dreams, hopes, wishes, and goals you’d like to accomplish. Listing them out, as in a bucket list is one technique, but vision maps are also appropriate in this category.
Before I left for my trip, I wrote a bucket list that I promptly forgot about in my day-to-day mental space. Little did I know that I would now be accomplishing #5, “joining a Zen/Buddhist monastery – practicing meditation” in less than 6 months before writing the list. Thought bubbles work, even if you forget about them and let them sizzle at the back of your head. Especially if you let them sizzle! The ability to “let go” of a thought bubble, rather than holding on to it as if you own the thing, allows you the flexibility to take whatever life has in store. The ability to “lose” a goal is in fact, the best way to help discover it.
No Expectations
For the Art of Travel to work, you also have to have no expectations. Expectations hold you back, and cause mental strife when things don’t go the way you expect them to (read: plan them to). Expectations set you up for mental blocks, as you realize the reality of a situation is far different than what you had imagined. It is better to come to a new place, a new culture, a new chapter in life with no expectations. Be like a sponge and observe and learn all you can while staying humble to the experience and never taking things for granted. Be open-minded and allow situations, experiences, and opportunities to become tools for personal growth.
With all that being said, it is important to note that having “no plans” isn’t an excuse for laziness and not experiencing and living life. Using the thought bubbles, you can base your day-to-day actions accordingly to the goals you’d like to accomplish, while at the same time not being attached to those goals. The moment your mind fixates on a goal or outcome, thereby focusing on a futuristic event, the moment you become unhappy and unbalanced. Enjoy the process, enjoy each moment–rather than the goal or outcome–and life will be immeasurably easier.
