Why I Travel

A lot of people got their panties in a twist over Nomadic Matt’s Huffington Post article “Why We Travel,” which is mostly about why he travels. I know I already covered this in “Why Can’t We Be Friends,” but I wanted to explain why I travel. Do with it what you will. Warning: It’s pretty long.

My grandmother Sara with Sammi and I at the airport on the way to London

It all started when I was fairly young. My grandparents own their own business and have the flexibility to travel, so I was always getting postcards from Russia, Ecuador or India. They had a map in the office covered in pins for places they have been (I now have a similar map, only it doesn’t say USSR).

They are in their 70s and have been to every continent. I wanted to see everything too. To have a full life. My family went on trips every year around the United States, so I saw New York, San Francisco and other cities at a young age.

Don’t I look happy to be there?

When I was fifteen, my family joined a big group of family friends for a trip to Paris. I had never been to Europe before and was nervous about it. I had been struggling with anxiety for almost a year and usually got physically sick when I thought about being outside of my comfort zone.

I spent the first day in bed, barely eating, missing out on Paris. By the second day, I could keep down pieces of baguette, but not much else. I was constantly overwhelmed. I don’t remember much from that trip to Paris, but I swore I would be back and would do it right next time. I would take a trip in which I wouldn’t be overcome with panic.

Paris Round 2, Older but not Wiser

I was given the chance to travel without my family four years later. I returned to Paris like I promised myself I would. This time I brought along my friend Christine and we traveled with EF College Break. I had never done a group tour before, but it turned out to be a good way to meet people. Since then I’ve been to a lot of places, sometimes becoming anxious over missed trains, overbooked hostels and visas, but I keep on.

The Canadian Sisters, Whitney and Sarah, and I on the Split Pub Crawl

So why do I keep doing it? Especially if it sends me into panic sometimes? I can’t list reasons. Just experiences. I travel for the friends I’ve met. Britta in Paris. Tamar, Jessica, Alex and Samantha in DC. The Russians in Dublin. Nueng in Chiang Mai. Sarah and Whitney, Donnie, Duc and the whole Silver Gate Hostel crew in Split. And of course the Australians on the BusAbout cruise.

I travel for the things I’ve seen. The Eiffel Tower on New Years Eve. Times Square during rush hour. The view of the cliffs from the old city walls in Dubrovnik. The mysterious Cliffs of Moher in Galway. The smiles of Lahu children in Thailand.

I travel for the things I’ve learned. How to say “hello” in Thai and “to life” in Croatian, as well as many inappropriate words in Italian. How much a pair of jeans costs in Siena. I travel for the mistakes I’ve made. Indulging in too much champagne in London. Paying too much for cab fare in Split. Getting on the wrong subway at least 5 times in New York and wandering aimlessly in Harlem at 3 a.m. until I found a cab.

My sisters and I at my aunt’s wedding in Nashville

People have been bashing the way other people travel, but I just want people to travel. I don’t care how. Business, pleasure, group, solo, family, long term, RTW, whatever. As long as it gets you out there. I read an article in the New York Times called “But Will it Make You Happy?” that summed up why I’ve made the decisions I have.

I could be saving up for a nice townhouse near the city furnished with everything from the Ikea catalog. But would it make me happy? Maybe for a little while, until the newness wore off. Then would come the rent and energy bill payments. It would suck the life out of me.

When I’m traveling, I never have that feeling. I know when I’m spending money, but it doesn’t feel like a chore. Things are fleeting. That townhouse could burn to the ground tomorrow. But experiences last. I will always remember the trips I’ve taken, the people I’ve met, the views I’ve seen. No matter of debt can take that away from me.

Ruins of Tulum, Mexico

Lots of my friends and family members don’t understand why I travel. They think I should be working some full time job to pay for a cute apartment and go on double dates with them. But it’s just not how my life is supposed to be right now.

I’m too restless for it. I’m only 22. I have plenty of time for dead end jobs, expensive apartments and domestication. So for now, I choose to experience everything the world has to offer. And who’s to say that this isn’t my career? I’m a writer, so this is what I do. And the truth is there’s no reason for me to not travel.