From Impatience to Serendipity: Reflections on Three Years of Full-Time Travel

How would you expect three years of full-time travel to change you? Would you see the world differently? Or see yourself differently? Would you be different?

For myself, it has changed me in ways that I am only slowly becoming aware of. I am more patient—with life, my children, and myself. I am more optimistic about the future of this beautiful planet and the of wonderful people on it. And perhaps most wondrously, I am struck more and more by the power and joy of serendipity in life.

“There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered.”

~Nelson Mandela

Patience

Patience is a funny thing, perhaps because it manifests (or fails to manifest) in so many ways. When we find ourselves in a waiting room, we hope to be patient rather than allow our frustration to darken our day. When working on an intricate puzzle—whether it is soldering jewelry or balancing a checkbook—it is patience that saves the people around us from experiencing the breadth of our vocabulary. And as we traverse through life, trying to attain this thing or that thing, this position or that position, it is patience that allows us to forgive ourselves for where we are today relative to where we thought we would be.

And most of us suck at it.

But somehow, a million miles away, that changed for me. Waiting for the train was not a chore but a chance to read, play cards, or meet a stranger. I learned that my children don’t make loud noises just to annoy me (that is just an extra for them) and that I don’t have to yell at them to get them to be quiet. And I found that I am exactly where I was meant to be, or maybe more accurately, I wasn’t meant to be anywhere in particular, so right here is just fine. 

I have no idea how bumping around the world taught me those things, and I certainly can’t guarantee that traveling will create the same outcome for anyone else. Still, if you’re considering it, I can recommend a lovely cafe in Uzbekistan. 

Optimism

And then there is this beautiful planet full of wonderful people. It feels so big at times and sometimes so small. City after city, country after country. The sheer number of cities I’ve never visited is overwhelming, each one a mystery waiting to be explored. And yet you can get to the far side of the planet in 24 hours; wherever you go, there will be people, there will be things to eat, and places to sleep, and it’s hard to feel that you’re terribly far from places that you know and have been before. Which feels like a contradiction, but somehow it isn’t.

And in all of those cities in all of those countries, you will find charming, wonderful people living inspiring lives. And you will see things and meet people that can do nothing less than inspire optimism—about people, this planet, and most importantly—the future. Martin Luther King Jr (and Theodore Parker before him) observed that the moral universe is arcing in the right direction. And I would go further and propose that the majority of important trends are arcing in the right direction.

But you wouldn’t know that to hear some people. Sometimes I think that pessimism is trendy, a fashionable accouterment with a fancy outfit—something to be displayed at a dinner party alongside cynicism and platitudes. But there is much reason for optimism in this lifetime. Unless I am much mistaken, education, environmental conservation, and peaceful co-existence are on a slow arc in the right direction. I know there are some notable—and poignant—exceptions, but if we zoom out a bit, we can see how far we’ve come.

Consider this: many of the worst things in the news today would not have seemed remarkable just one hundred years ago.

Anyway, that is a long-winded way of saying that I believe there is great cause for optimism and joy in our lives. And I hope you feel it too because the feeling is the first part of making it true.

Uncertainty, Adventure, and Serendipity

I think there is something about not knowing where you are going to sleep that opens you to adventure. Or perhaps it is an adventure. And that opens you to more? I’m not sure.

For much of our travels, we moved every two days. It was a good rhythm for us. A day on a bus or train, finding a place to sleep, a day to explore and visit museums, a night to rest, and then back to the train or bus the next day. This means that every other day while eating lunch with your backpack leaning against your chair, you don’t know where you will sleep. Our record was 10:30 pm, sitting on the sidewalk outside the train station in Sydney, Australia, learning that the overnight train we had hoped to be on was fully booked, and wondering where we could find to sleep that night. We found a place—though the ceiling leaked and there were cockroaches on the patio—and all was well. But one can’t deny feeling a certain uncertainty on that cold sidewalk. So how on earth could that be good?

I have no idea. But I have enormously fond memories of that day. And we’re still friends with the people we met—the people who were so engaging that we didn’t get around to booking train tickets—ha! 

So, ah, serendipity. Right?

And Now, Your Turn

This is life; it isn’t a training session or dress rehearsal. I know this revelation is not new or unique. But it seems that learning something isn’t nearly enough; we have to feel things. And if full-time travel offered anything, it was an assault of feeling, day in and day out, feeling. And it’s hard not to be changed by that.

And I like the changed me. The me that is more patient, more optimistic about where we are all headed, and far more likely to stop and notice a rainbow or shooting star. And that is definitely serendipitous.

“If you travel around the world and come back as the same person, you didn’t do it right.”

~from the notes of a novel I never got around to writing

And now your turn:

Have you ever considered a long trip, around the world or otherwise? What changes would you hope for? Or fear?