Travel Thoughts: Keeping Friends & Ditching Shoes
Look. I’m at the tail end of this trip, enjoying the moment while it lasts. I’m also booking accommodation for next month’s trips. And! Somewhere in my subconscious, I’m searching for the mental capacity to buy that next plane ticket.
This week, there’s not much going on in my head besides logistics. How wonderfully nutty these next few months are going to be!
As I must deal with what is on the surface, here are some scattered travel thoughts — crowdsourced from the public, contemplated by yours truly.
Thought: Managing the desire to travel, and the desire to explore your own city.
This statement answers its own query. “Managing” is exactly the right word here.
This three-month, five-country trip that I’m wrapping up? I swear not a day went by where I didn’t miss Amsterdam.
I’m not exaggerating. Not a single day.
The answer, like all things, is in the balance.
Take yourself on dates when you’re home. Look at your city through the eyes of a tourist (or a travel blogger, whichever you prefer). Consciously venture off your own beaten path. All while enjoying the comfort of your favorite deli sandwich on a regular basis.
When the inevitable craving for a completely different, impossible-to-find sandwich comes along? That’s when you book the flight.
Having roots in a city that you love is such a fucking blessing. The most beautiful thing to come back to. Landing at an airport that feels like “home” is one of my favorite feelings ever.
And that feeling can’t be found without leaving first.
Thought: Footwear needed for each place must vary. Do you keep a pack strictly for that when on long travel?
What a prime question.
Let’s analyze my current shoe situation. This particular trip involved four pairs.
I could have easily managed with two — my Birkenstocks and my all-purpose sneakers — but I didn’t want to.
I was also accompanied by my trusty day-to-night Croc sandals, worn perhaps 10 days in total, and my oversized black combat boots — entirely unnecessary in this climate.
But I am a boot girl. And I wanted them! So those clunky things were worn on all travel days, in all temperatures. And the sneakers lived clipped to the outside of my backpack.
You never need four pairs of shoes. Ever. I could ramble on about overconsumption, but just look at your own wardrobe. Really. How many pairs of shoes do you wear on a real, regular basis?
My guess is less than four.
Even on longer trips that cover dramatically different climates or terrains (i.e. multi-country stops in South America), I propose that you buy the necessary footwear upon arrival. Same goes for heavier jackets.
I lugged my hiking boots through Central America for three months after wearing them exactly one time to hike Acatenango, and then they made my big toenail fall off, so.
Thought: Building a nomadic life.
Hm. To get the cliches out of the way…
It takes time.
It’s not easy.
It can be lonely, hard on your mind and body.
It’s not for everyone.
While I can technically say I’ve been “nomadic” for over two years now, the process has evolved in stages:
Stage One: no job, backpacking off my savings and those sweet, sweet COVID unemployment checks.
Stage Two: volunteering, backpacking — even tighter budget. The beginnings of a new job. No steady income. Still spending savings.
Stage Three: more time and effort into work while living abroad. Less travel. Still no steady income. Running out of savings.
Stage Four: New role at work. More backpacking, more slowly. Somewhat financially stable.
Stage four — Balkan summer — was a trial period. To see how it felt putting in more hours while on the road. To see if I could make it work. To see if I enjoyed it.
Overall? I can now say it went quite well.
There were some days the whole thing felt absolutely grand, having purpose and structure in an otherwise wide-open day… and others where I really didn’t feel I was getting the most out of my experience. It very much varied day to day, and I think it always will. People who have been living/working nomadically for years experience the same ups and downs.
Something I do know: for me, it’s not forever. I am so grateful for what I’ve created for myself, but I am straight up not enjoying moving around as often as I used to.
I miss consistency — in my coffee, my mattress, and my relationships.
Aside: “Digital Nomad.” The term. Just last week I mentioned how cringe I (and 99% of people) find it, despite it not being an… inaccurate self-descriptor. Can we come up with something new?
Lover of the laptop-friendly cafe. Brewery-based girl working for beer. Remote rat.
All of the above.
Thought: Why so many fitness instructors are so bad.
Unrelated and cackling — thank you. While I have been out of the group fitness game since the pandemic, I know from previous firsthand experience and from the depths of my soul that this is indeed the case.
I think it’s for the same reason there are so many bad actors.
People are easily pleased. And easily entertained.
Thought: How to stay connected to a core group of people while traveling.
TLDR: with varying degrees of effort, to varying degrees of success.
When I first left New York, I told my friends I was “going to Thailand and then I’ll be back” and then I went completely off-grid and never came back in the same way — not really.
Towards the end of that first trip, the state of my relationships back home loomed large. I had neglected them, frankly. I began to worry if I would still have friends.
Indeed, some friendships were never the same. There are some people I once saw regularly that I literally haven’t seen since. I don’t think it has to be this way, but the way things subsequently evolved for me, that’s the price I paid.
In retrospect, these relationships were probably the ones that would have faded in some way at some point. And truly, that’s okay.
The ones that remain are the ones that matter. Period. And funnily, the longer I am away, the less I feel the need to stay “connected” to these people as I once did. Do I miss them dearly? Of fucking course. Do I want to talk to them more? Absolutely. It’s just…
We are connected. By nature.
I know that they’re going to be there whenever I do go back. And it will feel like not a day has passed.
And I will never, ever take that for granted.
—
I hope this was insightful in some way.
Something I have difficulty reconciling with is the fact that, from an outside perspective, my life is considered abnormal.
To me, it’s… not. It’s my life.
I have reached a point of consistency. Not complacency, nor boredom, but a feeling of total normality in waiting for buses of questionable condition and living out of a bag and sleeping in a different room every few nights.
The normality is also reinforced — and this here is the kicker — because nearly everyone with whom I interact with on a daily basis is doing the same thing. I am no special snowflake. (Plus, I need to hang out with locals more. That’s a fact.)
So when people ask questions about this little life I live, I feel grateful. Because I am made to think about how I’ve gotten to this point. What works and does not work. And how to move forward. And…
ONWARDS,
Mag
(Lover of the laptop-friendly cafe. Brewery-based girl working for beer. Remote rat.)