Before this trip, when I traveled the journey was towards a destination. We were moving–traveling towards a new home–or I was going to a weekend away–an event. Travel was a string of moments leading somewhere.
- 15 hours staring at a corn field that never seemed to end.
- The rush through an airport burdened with everything I stuffed into my pockets at the last moment– everything that I of course will not use this weekend, but that I daren’t leave behind.
This type of travel is different. I’m not going to end the journey for another six weeks, and my destination when I get back isn’t home. I’m not racing towards a permanent destination, or (for now) any destination at all. The journey its self is the destination. The journey is the event. I have to tamp down the impulse to look forward, and pause to look at what’s around me.
- Listening to the growl and cough of a tricycle motor in my ear, smelling metal, oil and dust, seeing greenery and the occasional canny spotted dog by the side of the road.
- Enjoying the cooler temperatures in the hostel as we wait for lunch, watching smartly uniformed students hurry by the windows, and smelling curry, bananas and rice.
However, despite how difficult it has been for me to pause, pausing is only the first step. Pausing still means I have an overriding mission I’m barreling towards, which I condescend to look away from for a moment. Not the mindset I want to be traveling in. Instead, what I should try to do is stop aiming myself towards the future at all. I should enjoy the moments I am in for the moments they are, not compared to the moments I wanted them to be, or as obstacles between the moments I’m going to experience next week. (That’s the ideal, at least.)
- Sharing a bench on a bus with a classmate as we travel through Manila. The unfamiliar architecture is flat-roofed and hundreds of small signs crowd above and around store windows. We’ve been traveling since 5 am this morning. It’s dark, but still hot and humid out, though the air conditioning on the bus is sucking the water out of the air. We all smell like travel (i.e. not good) and someone on the bus has been burning incense recently. The traffic is a busy snarl of horns and engines swirling past the bus. The bus driver starts a cheerful song, and I hear the whole-hearted laughter of one of my classmates as we recognize the (very dirty) tune.
- Holding the hands of someone I don’t know as I learn to dance between clacking bamboo poles. It is hot in the gym. I had a stomach ache this morning, but it’s going away in the adrenaline rush of staying on beat. An audience of students is watching me dance, and they start to cheer as I successfully keep my feet from being caught.
Moments that I wouldn’t trade away.