HAMBURG, Germany – The question arises from time to time, sometimes when I’m hungry or tired, and sometimes when I’m uncomfortably wedged between too many people on a foreign public transportation system.
Most of the time, the days are too full of new engaging things to see and do, new people to meet, and new maps to decipher. But there are those days when I wake up at four in the morning on another night train, somewhere in Bulgaria, when I can’t help but wonder, even if just for a second, “why am I doing this?”
Inevitably, before I can answer this question I’m interrupted — by a brusque customs official who, with a mere momentary glance, makes me feel like I’ve already overstayed my welcome, or by my large and inebriated Serbian train car neighbor who doesn’t seem to know or care why he’s paying me a visit (but will not leave) — and it is buried away until further notice, perhaps a week down the line, as we are unwittingly shot at by BB gun wielding Turkish boys on the shores of the Bosphorus.
Eventually, the opportunity to reflect on the motivation to travel arises and things become clearer. Not only are the hellish moments not that bad in hindsight (and good fodder for storytelling), but the ups and downs that make up the travel experience give it the incredibly dense learning potential that it has.
It encourages, and sometimes demands, an attentiveness to the here and now that is vastly different to sedentary life, allowing for a different, and valuable, perspective. When ordinary experiences occur in front of new and unfamiliar backdrops, they can stand out, revealing nuances that you never knew existed. (more…)