Memories of Travel, and coming to terms with the end of a long-term backpacking trip

We can look out of the window of this train again, but we can’t live the exact same experience we lived the first time.

Whoever we are, there are occasional stretches of time one experiences, where there are certain moments in life that give us strange emotional epiphanies, and thoughts swirling in our heads that we can’t really put into words. As if, deep down you feel a certain way, but you can’t really describe how. For me, it is hard to understand what it’s like before and after these times, but it is one of those times now.

For the past three months, from May Third of 2016 until now, I’ve been backpacking around Asia. I plan to devote several future blog posts to travel advice, but today I’m going to talk about emotions, and coping with the end of a trip. I spent two months in China, and one in Southeast Asia, divided among Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. And the moment of a realization that I’d known all along, yet never truly thought about, brought a feeling upon me that I can’t quite put into words, as I sat in my hostel dorm room in Phnom Penh with my brother, trying to figure out when we would pack for our overnight bus to Siem Reap. This was the end. It was over. After one more stop in Siem Reap to see Angkor Wat, it’s done. Gone. Me and my brother will be flying to Manchester, England where we will see our family. And even if I do the same backpacking itinerary again, it will never be the same.

By this, I’m not saying that I’m assuming every place I visited is going to change drastically, although, this is Asia and very rapidly changing. I’m saying that I will change in ways that will mean I can’t experience the trip the same way again – I will never be able to go back to the point in my life in May 2016, where I stepped off that plane in Beijing Capital Airport, ready for the greatest adventure of my life. I will never have those exact same thoughts, same anticipations, and same feelings that I did when I landed in Beijing that night. I think future trips will be valuable too if I backpack this region again (which I definitely hope to do). But I will not be the same me. This trip has created a treasure trove of memories, which I must hold onto and cherish, as the Cambodian nation has done with its ruins of Angkor.

I doubt I’m the only one who has had these thoughts at the end of a major trip. To those who have struggled with a feeling similar to mine, here’s my advice: Plan future trips, because the travel bug never goes away once you’ve caught it. But also, embrace the fleetingness of your memories. Know that you’ve had a collection of experiences that you will never have again, but you can remember fondly. And if you do similar trips, remember that you will have whole new experiences then too. Just because travel isn’t new to me anymore doesn’t mean it’s any less exciting.

Maybe you can’t travel abroad again in the near future due to various circumstances. Maybe this is your rare chance in a long time, and you loved every minute of it. In that case, still, cherish your memories. Your trip may not last your whole life, but if you keep reminding yourself of them, the memories of it should.

I’m also looking forward to embracing new classes in my life at home, reuniting with my college pals, and just seeing how things go. There will be times of stress, in which I want to go back to the younger me, before my trip, that didn’t ever see an inch of 2016 China, and had no idea of the extent to which I’d appreciate the great places I’d go and people I’d meet. Once those moments pass though, they pass forever. Let’s cherish them while we can, and remember them fondly for the rest of our lives.

 

At home nowhere – and happy that way

I feel at home nowhere – and I hope to keep it that way as long as I can.

This Fall was my first semester at college. I attend the American University in Washington, DC, and will graduate in 2019. It’s a moderately small school with around 7,000 undergraduates. I’ve settled in quite well. Not without problems, such as the anxieties over future jobs and the occasional disappointing test grade. But overall, my social and academic college life is on to a great start.

As the semester winds up and I’m anticipating my trip to Peru later this month, I’ve been thinking about the concept of home. I’ve been to parents houses in New York and Boston a few times this semester, including on Thanksgiving. But each time, I have felt no more happiness to be home than any other time during the past five years of my life. If anything, it has felt strange to be home. It’s strange because a few things are different than I remember, but for the most part the home and the surroundings are the same. And I don’t like sameness and routine in my life. I like things to change. I want the town to be different each time, wherever I am. I have felt no less strange then I do when I step off the plane in a foreign country.

I have fond memories of being in both my mother and my father’s houses and going to school in the Boston area. My parents are both great, loving people in their own ways. But I don’t feel homesick or nostalgic for my past like some of my friends at college do.

I don’t think this is about my family situation, school situation, or anything from my teenage years. I think it’s just my personality. I love places, but I don’t feel a special attachment to any place in particular. I just like seeing everywhere I can, but as an observer, not a resident.

I am happy for people who are different then me and feel happy with their lives at one place they call home. I sometimes wonder if my parents wish I envy them, since they spend a lot of money for me to travel. But I don’t envy them. I’m comfortable in my own skin. My late high school days of anxiety, a desire to fit in like everyone else are over.

In 2 weeks I will be flying to Peru, ready to visit the last inhabited continent I have left to set foot in. I will be updating my blog regularly with travel advice about visiting the most prominent country of the high Andes.