Welcome to Gypsy Wednesday! Every Wednesday, I strive to highlight all the juicy morsels related to travel and beyond.
Night was not only still in St. Clair, but hypnotic. Breeze ruffled the sleepy leaves hanging lazily on the trees. Homemade mojitos quenched the July heat, as we waited for the propane barbecue to fire up — tuna burgers and marinated prawns a
succulent aspect of the night’s menu. Endings were a tiny particle, far, far away.
My stay in Toronto was annotated by evenings spent on my friend’s expansive balcony.
We talked India (he’s been there twice) and hitting the travel wall.
“I wouldn’t go for 8 months ever again. It was too long. By the end I was just exhausted,” said Kori.
HIs statement got me thinking as did Nomadic Matt’s article on the subject.
Since I’m only two months in, I can’t imagine slowing down. Immersed in the honeymoon stage, I’m ready to pledge my loyalty in sickness or health without qualms.
However, everyone that lives and breathes in my life forewarns – I will get sick of it. Long for home.
Here’s the thing, I don’t really have one. Whether that marks me as nuts or a trailblazer will be determined later. My mom is convalescencing in a nursing home and my dad is retired, hasn’t been part of my life for years.
The advantage that some travelers have is knowing their ancestral home is available, their parents a tangible concept – a compartmentalized place to energize, rebuild again.
So, I question and question. Will I? By 6 months past, find myself hankering for permanency or stake my claim back in Canada.
I don’t know for certain, but intution tells me there’s no turning back and I can’t see wanting to.
There’s always been a restless yearning in me, a voice questioning whether I belong in Canada at all. Nomadic Matt’s stance is long-term travel has a natural end. One day I must pull up sticks and drop a permanent pin on Google Maps.
Let’s posit you relate to my story, that perhaps, you too, are in search of something, a radically new realization of home, a full self even.
1. Take breaks. Grab a breather, hopping tourist sites is certainly part of the experience, but only a sliver of the sum. And a hectic schedule will ensure burn-out. My breaks can be up to 2 days – basically doing nothing. Such is the concept of slow travel.
2. Re-focus. The happening architecture, travel hook-ups, alien food is all fascinating, but keep on track with your goals. Mine have turned into dual purpose: is there permanency in a foreign land for me, and damn girl – you’ve got some personal work to do. It’s extremely easy to lose sight of why you needed to leave the cubicle.
3. Crack that creativity. Exposure to unknown lands and cultures is the key you need to open any repressed creativity, and makes us smarter. It’s proven. A sound reason to continue exploring. Travel on the brain.
4. I hit it. This is my fear. My weak suggestion is to stop for a few months. Find a cheap, but clean flat in Thailand or Argentina. Dawdle for days at a time. Gather the whys, hows. Travel, although alluring in itself, should have some purpose for you. A purpose will fuel the stressful, trying times.
Throughout the chaos and excitement of travel, don’t forget that you are the center of it all. Digital nomads and travel as a lifestyle can have a permanency – YOU.
Have you ever hit the wall? What did you do when it happened?
Photo: Kusine
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I wrote about this last year when I hit the travel wall in El Salvador (http://www.uncorneredmarket.com/2009/06/hitting-the-travel-wall/). I do think that moving slowly and taking breaks in places do help to prevent burn-out. But, there is also something to the idea of where you travel and choosing to spend time in different types of places.
We spent 18 months in Asia and didn’t really get burnt out. True, it was at the beginning of the trip, but the fantastic thing about Asia is that when you cross a border you are usually faced with a different culture, language, and cuisine. In Central America, each country had it’s differences but there were a lot of similarities and after 4 months I hit a culture shock wall – all that had been fun and different at the arrival in Central America started to annoy me.
When I hit the wall in El Salvador, I didn’t think to stop traveling. It was just something I needed to get over and move on. I think it’s part of the process.