There’s a moment, between getting on the bus to nowhere, and realizing you’re absolutely and totally lost during which you feel completely free. Before the fear sinks in that you may be in over your head, you want nothing more than to be just where you are. For me, this is that moment.
I’ve spent many years thinking about who I am. The problem is, I hated that person. He was boring and didn’t do a whole lot. He was successful at his job, but he really didn’t enjoy it. His life seemed to be heading down a predictable and boring path.
So, I did what any 23-year-old suffering from a post-grad-crisis would do. I hopped on a flight to Thailand with no plan, way too little money, and this unfathomable belief that everything would work itself out in the end. It was time to start living.
Begin:
I am writing this from a bus that I think is heading to Bangkok. Somehow, I ended up on the bus alone, with no data connection, and no phone. I can only sit and have faith that I will reach Siem Reap without another scam.
Overall, this experience has actually been profoundly grand. In just a month of traveling, I have discovered that much of the things that I have truly believed about myself are absolute nonsense.
I have always held a deep belief that for some reason, I just couldn’t make friends easily. Since traveling, however, I have discovered that I can be the social butterfly who everyone at the hostel knows-and-loves, and then just two days later, find myself miserable and convinced I would die alone. It’s entirely a figment of my imagination, and I decide which is true at any given moment.
I always fancied myself an intelligent person, but the more I meet people from different backgrounds, home countries, and walks of life, I realize that I am quite the opposite. It was Socrates that said “I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing.” Perhaps this is one of those situations. In noticing that I am nowhere near the smartest in the room, I can continue to be a life-long learner.
I thought that I was good at keeping track of my belongings, but the number of things I’ve lost since being here clearly disproves that thought. Especially when drinking, I become way too relaxed with my possessions.
In just a month, I’ve somehow managed to lose two phones, my watch, and my hat. That’s not to mention the “broken motorbike” scam I recently fell into or the number of times that I ended up paying for a group taxi, only to realize nobody else was going to pay me back. I am now broke.
For the longest time, I thought that I didn’t want to work a lot. That other people were always forcing me to work extra hours, and to stress about work. Turns out, I do this entirely on my own. In a way, work is like a release when you’re travelling. Other people get drunk or laze about the hostel when they don’t want to go out, but I can walk to a cafe, camp out, and work for the day. It feels like getting a break from day-to-day drudgery.
Side note: Yes, travelling can be boring. Don’t believe all those lifestyle brands out there that try and tell you otherwise. Regardless of where you go, you’re still you. If you are capable of being bored, angry, tired, frustrated, uncontrollably sad, or otherwise not excited and happy, it will happen to you on the road. Better to realize that now, and save yourself days of blaming yourself for not always having fun.
This is a series I am working on, called letters from my younger self. Taking my personal essays that I’ve been writing since 2014. The blog posts in vitro I was too afraid to publish. I will include highlights for my hindsight 20/20 type of reflections, but the stories themselves will be largely untouched (aside from editing).