It's been more than seven months now since I got back from my trip to France. It was the longest trip I've ever taken abroad to a country that doesn't speak English, and it was the longest trip I've ever initiated and carried out entirely on my own. I've had plenty of time since then to reflect on my trip, why I went, what I was thinking, and what I was hoping to do, or find, or accomplish. I may have learned a lot about the French language, Paris, self-supported cycle touring in the Loire Valley, and Nice, but I think the things I learned about myself were the most telling and important lessons of the trip. Here's what I really learned from my one month in France last fall:
1) In spite of all the great experiences I had on this trip, there were only two days that I remember being HAPPY ... not just proud, or wowed, but really, thoroughly, all the way through everything's-okay-and-your-world-is-perfect-in-this-moment *happy*. They were 1) the day I met my wonderful boyfriend in front of the Eiffel Tower, and kicked off a week of French lessons in the morning and afternoon walks/museums/naps and late dinners in Paris with him, and 2) my last day in Nice - the day I was packing my bags for the last time, checking out of my last hostel, and finally getting on a bus to the airport to go home. So, I would say lesson #1 is that I love home. I love my friends, I love my family, and I love my home.
2) I like having a purpose to my travel. No ... I *crave* having a purpose. I NEED to have a purpose. When I travel, I want to take classes, or make memories with friends/family, or conquer physical challenges (long hikes, bike rides, white water rafting, etc), or teach, work, volunteer ... you get it. I like having some manner of work to do, as well as some structured class/route/project that clearly shows me the progress I've made. I liked taking French lessons, and spending whole days biking ... I didn't like my first four open-ended days in Paris, or my last four equally open days in Nice. Having several open-ended days to do nothing but hang out in bars and restaurants and museums, read, and other leisure activities, is not my thing. It's not that I'm against leisure; I definitely have *moments* when I want to do nothing but plop like a vegetable, or wander aimlessly without a sense of time or place, and I enjoy them fully. But it's certainly not what I want to do for days or weeks on end. I get bored. I lose confidence in myself. It just makes me feel ... I want to say weightless, but not in a free and liberating way - in a more vague, amorphous, inconsequential way.
3) I really don't like traveling alone. My boyfriend did end up joining me for about nine days of my trip (best nine days of the trip, btw), but it was still the first trip I've taken abroad where I didn't have a study-abroad program, friend, or family member waiting on the other side to greet me. To be honest ... I didn't have half as much fun as I thought I would. I will say that I'm glad that I *can* do it - I *can* take a trip by myself (even as a twenty-something white female, if that makes a difference), I won't be held back from doing something or going somewhere I want to go just because there's no one to go with me. That said, I really didn't love any day that I was by myself. I tried to tell myself, when I was wowed by a beautiful garden or painting or pastry, "This is for YOU! Savor it for all it's worth, you got yourself here and this moment is all YOURS!" ... and I did, as well as I could. But I'd be lying if I said any one of those moments wasn't accompanied by a feeling that it was somehow less than all it could be, because none of the special people in my life were there to share it with me.
On a related note ... part of my wish for this trip was to get over being "alone" by meeting people, other travelers. I had some success in this endeavor, but it was limited ... and I believe that comes down to another truism about who I am. I don't make friends quickly, or easily. I've always been this way, and at this point in my life I think I can accept that and be OK with it. I'm friendly enough, but I will never be that person who throws her arms around people she's just met and laughs and gabs with them like we've been friends forever. Making conversation with people on a tour or in a hostel takes work. I'm not just *dying* to talk to people ... far from it. No matter how nice they are, I'm usually happy when it's time to say good-bye and I can go back to being quiet and not keep having to think of ways to keep conversation going. I need to get to know people over several weeks, or months ... preferably through some common interest group, like a club, class, gathering of mutual friends, etc. Once again, re-enforcing for myself another reason that I'd much rather travel with a group, or to meet a group of some sort, than travel on my own.
4) I'm not as convinced as I used to be that worldwide vagabonding = living life to the fullest and staying rooted with a job and a house = being boring and getting older. Sorry ... was that too tactless? I don't mean to offend the job-keeping home-owners reading this, but that (in its most base, blunt form) is the train of thought my brain was on when I started dreaming about this trip. I hated my job, I read "The Four-Hour Work Week", and I just wanted off of the American Dream treadmill for awhile. I thought traveling for at least a month with just a couple bags and no job or agenda would be incredibly liberating, expansive. I thought I would feel like I was flying. I think the actual experience was more like running downhill - a repetitive cycle of short freefalls and catching/braking yourself that's much more taxing on your body that it appears. It takes work to make all of your own decisions regarding where you're going to stay each night, where and what you're going to eat, what you're going to see, what you're going to do, where you're going to go. It takes work to be constantly introducing yourself, and learning your way around. It gets lonely. It gets boring, at times. A vagabond may not have a boss, or a mortgage, but they probably also don't have family within a few hours' drive, or community roots. I want my life to rest somewhere between these two extremes.
I don't think I'm done traveling. But I'm done needing to escape. I love my home, I love my family and friends, I love my community. I love my jobs. Every day I get to spend with these things is a blessing. That's enough for me.
