I’m Going – Musings of a Decade-Long Independent Nomadic Traveler
by Ricardo
“I’m going!”
We’ve all heard that utterance before, usually when the topic of really cool (meaning interesting rather than cold—though they are not mutually exclusive) destinations are being touted. But, and this holds true for even the most well traveled, that utterance more often than not rings a bit hollow. Face it, how many times have you’ve said something like: “Yeah, it’s always been my dream to see Machu Picchu” (or wherever)… “I’m going!” only to instead purchase a plasma monitor to complete the Facebook experience. But I’m not singling-out the armchair traveler whose unfulfilled dreams pile up like past issues of National Geographic. I’m wagging a finger at: the mirror.
I’m like many nomads and long-haul travelers who have already visited his/her fair share of destinations. A dozen years ago I traveled a dozen countries in the time it takes Earth to orbit the Sun. Five years ago I ventured off to maybe four. Last year, I stayed in Thailand. Though, I did venture off to the extreme north and to the very south several times. Anyway, I’ve discussed this attrition of mobility with other travelers recently and it seems that I’m following a sort of common pattern. Like any other passion in life, contentment begins to prevail over wanderlust. In other words the impetus to venture further, indefinitely, wanes. We find ourselves returning to the same old place as before, or don’t leave it at all. Who would have guessed? And, why is that? Has the spark to explore diminished? Is it a nesting thing? Is it personal economics? Is it indifference? Why hasn’t my nomadic office I’m a web designer view changed with the seasons like before? Why am I so happy, yet unfulfilled? (Okay, I’m now risking any reader sympathy I might have had.)
That train of questions wasn’t rhetorical. I don’t have a solid answer. (But, I’ll try to formulate something by the end of this piece.)
Some time ago, my Nu Nomad partner, Carmen Bolaños, hosted and interviewed a troupe of trapeze artists. One of the artists, James, replied the following to a pro-versus-con question on extended time on the road: “The pros are that I have so many friends in so many places and I’m continually expanding my knowledge of self and other. The cons are that as much love as I have to share it’s difficult to maintain a romantic relationship right now. That’s a big con.”
Ah, ha! I believe he might have touched on something here.
For nearly nine years now I’ve been nomading and have been meeting a lot of great, very interesting, people. Yet, no romantic relationship—that is, soul mate quality—has been forged. Most likely since I’m not rooted to any specific area and casual romances are not all that interesting to me. (Yeah, I know. I must be getting old or something.) And perhaps it’s due to the nature of balance, or Newton’s third law of motion: For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, that for every new place I visit and like, I soon find that it’s not “home” and I become disenchanted. Yet when at home (that would be best narrowed down to California), it’s not where I wish to be. But when I’m anywhere, I’m reluctant to venture out since the benefits of staying in place may lead to a cosmic relationship that I think I need in this phase of my life. But, again, I don’t know if I can stay in any particular place for very long.
Humph.
Luckily, if not timely, several different (good) friends of mine have recently asked me to come visit them in their respective home countries. These are fun and interesting people I’ve known from my travels, whom—unlike yours truly—maintain homes and a semblance of traditional living. Also, they’re located in places that are different than my usual haunts in Asia.
Belgium and Denmark are both places I’ve ventured to long before, countries I maintain fond memories of. So, the question now is: Have I recaptured my wanderlust? Perhaps. Will contentment soon follow? Maay-bee. (If nothing else, I know for sure that this may be another lovely diversion from diversion.) So, with my friends’ individual invitations, collective encouragements, along with a bit of self-inflicted butt-kicking on my part, I’ve acquiesced. I’m going.
Because I’m a nomad, and that’s my life—for now.
