It has and will be, an odd year of travel for me. First and foremost, I seemed to have inadvertently forgot to book a multitude of flights during the first 6 months, given it was the coldest winter since Moses was a child.
It got to be that complaining about the cold weather was a waste of warm air.
When my brain finally thawed out about June 4, it seemed I still hadn’t remembered about airplanes. Instead – again inadvertently – I chose driving trips. As in, looking-like-a-carseat. The only thing I love less than driving trips, is I-Love-Not-Camping trips.
I honestly have no idea how this happened. A complete digression from real life as I know it. Not life-altering shocks, only subtle diminishment.
Make Me Wanna Roll My Windows Down and Cruise
Pondering this turn of affairs, I realized that I have partaken in a substantial number of global and epic drives: The Road to Hana in Maui, The Great Ocean Road in Australia, The Oregon Trail, Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, The Cabot Trail, a few hundred kms. of Route 66, The Yukon Golden Circle, meandering through the Alps, The Alaska Highway, The Adriatic Highway from Montenegro to Croatia, Badlands National Park, Germany’s Black Forest Panoramic Route, our own Icefields Parkway and Cowboy Trail, and who can beat driving through smoke-filled British Columbia every summer. So I guess it’s no surprise that I’m going to embark and repeat one I’ve done before. But this time I am doing it the opposite way, circumnavigating the globe by weaving through the Martimes and Maine from Toronto, and then driving all the way back.
To drive across Canada once may be regarded as misfortune.
To drive across twice looks like carelessness.
It may also be that I felt in advance the vague distaste of physical exertion, so sitting in a car would alleviate any of this risk.
As Oscar Wilde quipped, I have one of those terrible weak natures that is not susceptible to influence.
Keep me in your prayer pot.
What is travel and why do we do it?
Ask 20 people and they will give 20 different answers.
There is not just one kind of journey. There are those journeys that have a set itinerary and destination, where the traveller is simply along for the ride. A getaway. A vacation. A change of scenery. A break.
And then there are journeys that lack any sort of distinct roadmap. This is the kind that some consider to be real travel. The kind of travel that changes who you are and how you see the world.
Fresh air, great scenery, and the wide open road are the Holy Trinity of freedom.
Some Chinese dude said that a good traveller has no fixed plans and is not intent of arriving.
But being lost can have it’s benefits, in that I have found find myself in places I never knew were there, in situations I never could have imagined, and with people I would not otherwise have met.
Anais Nin said, “It is a sign of great inner insecurity to be hostile to the unfamiliar.” And if you don’t know where you’re going, anywhere seems like an intriguing option.
But the last time I checked, I’m exactly where I usually am.
Lost.
Wishing I had brought breadcrumbs.
I envy those blessed with an innate sense of direction – people who can find their way back to a Starbucks passed over an hour ago…what store had that polka dot sweater…the tall cathedral in the middle of the square.
Had I been leading the pioneers in Westward Ho!, we would still be going in circles somewhere in New Jersey.
But I do strive to stay out of areas with high winds, lots of ice, and places where there is country and western music.
I have also tried filing with the Canadian Unfairness Commission, but they haven’t as yet responded.
As they say, anything worth doing, is worth doing badly. Not that that has stopped me.
I have long surrendered to getting lost, choosing instead to romanticize these episodes, making for a ready story when dinner conversation lags.Besides, nobody wants to hear that – Yes, everything went according to plan.
How can that even be remotely interesting?
I have discovered through pugilistic experiences that one of the secrets of life is to keep expectations low. Luckily I am still drinking, for that should help immensely.
So where I am going with this? In case you missed it, this is a pun.
I have never forgotten a story interior decorator Alexandra Stoddard tells of her first boss, who turned the office lights off at five o’clock every workday believing that her employees should use their evenings to go to places and events such as art galleries, historic buildings, concerts, museums, films, back alleys, or to be in nature. She felt that partaking and involving themselves in outside pursuits and places would enable them to become better designers; well-rounded, creative, able to think outside the box, and better able to serve themselves and others.
Curiosity is our friend that teaches us how to become ourselves. And it’s a very gentle friend and a very forgiving friend, and a very constant one. – Elizabeth Gilbert
Without wanderlust and an acute case of curiosity, even if it is only in your own backyard, one may get stuck in a routine, growing stagnant and complacent. Unless you happen to be Emily Dickinson, Brian Wilson or Howard Hughes.
As Saint Augustine famously said, “The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”We are only one thing among many.”
Speaking of wanderlust, I wandered into the bathroom of a nightclub last night and found this gem of requisite information. Did you know that every 5 years a woman uses her height in lipstick?
I know you are thinking – how would they even measure that?
It can leave you reeling.
It is truly surprising what one can discover and uncover at places you have probably passed a zillion times, but have never thought to investigate.
Yes, you say – I’ll stop someday when I have time or bronchitis, which amounts to the same thing.
But how pray tell, are you ever going to find the overlooked and the undervalued.
…the chartreuse vase, the dreamy bedding, that set of penguin salt and pepper shakers, the cat pillow, the tropical flamingo print bean bag chair, the powder blue pipework candelabra, or a great shoe sale?
It’s just simply a matter of sticking your head out and going for it.
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