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But this routine gnawed at my soul. I wasn’t happy. I grew restless.
and never the same as when they left.
Patterns like this are hard to break. We’re afraid of being hurt so we don’t let anyone get close enough to hurt us.
The unfamiliarity of travel jolts you out of your familiar patterns. Who we are on the road is different from who we are at home. I don’t know if who we are on the road is closer to our real self than who we are at home—having changed so much in my life, I’m not sure if the idea of a real self is all that useful, honestly. But I can say that being on the road gave me the opportunity to stop faking confidence and start building it; to stop acting like a new person and to start becoming one.
In our minds, that ideal self is just being held back by the version of us who exists in everyday life. The one who justifies and rationalizes why you aren’t your ideal self and why you keep failing.
Awakening to the idea that you belong somewhere else is a recipe for wanderlust. It’s also how you become really crappy at your job and look for ways to get the hell out of there as soon as you can.
And, as I got into the bus to the temple—a converted pickup truck with wooden benches and a roof added to keep out the rain—the course of my life changed. Looking back, I can say that this was when the seed that was planted in Costa Rica came into full bloom. This was the moment when my life pivoted.
Americans trade time for money and, although we all complain about it, it’s an arrangement we’ve kept in place for decades. Even as traveling and career breaks have become more mainstream, this fundamental arrangement has not changed. Taking extended time off is simply not part of our cultural norms—and I don’t think it ever will be.
The result of all of this is that Americans may have a vacation culture, but we do not have a travel culture.
Our comfort zones may make us unhappy at times, but more often than not, they keep us just happy enough to resist change.
Ralph Waldo Emerson’s famous words on the same topic. “Trust thyself:” he wrote, “every heart vibrates to that iron string.… Nothing can bring you peace but yourself.”
Your demons will always find some space in the bottom of your backpack.
Hostel life forces you to confront the years of conditioning so many of us have endured about what we “need” from our lives: fineries, nicer stuff, better shoes, bigger TVs. Hostels can teach us just how little we need to be really happy.
“I didn’t mean literally,” she said giving me a piercing look. “What I am saying is that when you started traveling, you were there 100 percent body and soul, right? When you are behind your computer working, you aren’t. When you are always connected on Facebook, you aren’t. When you spend twenty minutes trying to get a photo of that perfect sunset, you aren’t. Seems like such a waste.”
