People don’t really talk
about the negatives of long-term travel and I don’t know why. Perhaps they’re
scared to complain while living it up on a beach in Bali because people will
think they’re being ridiculous, but I want to set the record straight: long
term travel has it’s downsides and I’d like to shed some light on my least
favourite bits.
Missing Major Milestones
I write this as my
little sister’s 18th birthday is looming – a HUGE turning point in
any teenager’s life – and I wont be there. Again. I’ve lost count of the
celebrations that I’ve missed while I’ve been on my adventure – babies being
born, weddings, funerals, heartbreaks, housewarmings, engagements – you name
it, I’ve missed it.
I’m sure my friends and
family have adapted to my absence (it has been two years!) but I haven’t quite
got there yet. I still get a pang of guilt each time I click ‘not attending’
and streams of pictures from social events make me want to book the next
flight home.
Everyone Seems to Have it Together When you really don’t
I live out of a
backpack, spend 90% of my day barefoot and I haven’t got any responsibilities (other
than having to wash my feet on the odd occasion).
Most of my friends have
mortgages (I wouldn’t even know how to apply for one of those and I still can’t
work out how council tax works), an endless stream of proposals has begun
creeping onto my timeline and one is getting married this year – a wonderful
and lifelong commitment that, quite frankly, terrifies me.
Instead of climbing the
corporate ladder I’ve perfected my downward dog. As they get numerous
promotions I’ve been watching the sunset from a surfboard. I like to think that
I’m on a journey of self-promotion and although my skill set doesn’t look much
on paper, I can haggle a mean price on a rickshaw and smell a scammer a mile
off - put that on your CV.
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| Barefoot Adventuring in Indonesia |
Doubt + Overthinking = Frequent Breakdowns
People might feel
jealous when they scroll through my Instagram feed, but it works both ways.
Yes, I’m a free-range explorer with little to responsibilities, but this ride can
get old. Sometimes, when I overthink, overanalyse and my mind goes into a wild
frenzy, I also wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Some days I crave the
stability of living in the U.K. I miss the stability of sleeping in the same
bed every night, living in a place where there are no language barriers and
having a constant support system around me.
It can feel as though I’m
wasting time on the road and watching my peers overtake me in every part of
life is enough to freak anyone out. However, after numerous breakdowns I’ve
figured out that I would be doing those sensible things if I wanted to. I could be doing those things; there’s
nothing stopping me settling down, getting a job and buying John Lewis coasters,
but life is all about priorities and mine revolve around experiences. I have
this weird, uncontrollable desire to see the world, despite it being a
difficult and uncomfortable journey at times.
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| Highlight of Australia: living in a car for 6 weeks. |
Random Waves of Loneliness
Loneliness tends to
strike at the strangest moments; when I’m soaking up a great view or I’m eating
something delicious. These are the moments when I miss the people that I love
and when I crave peanut butter.
When loneliness strikes,
past experience has taught me to curl up with a book or start a conversation
with a stranger. As if by magic, the dark, gloomy cloud above me fizzles into a
happy haze and I forget about what I was worrying over in the first place. These
unexpected chats that throw you into another person’s life, troubles and advice
are lifesavers when you’re getting too wrapped up in your own worries.
Oh, the Goodbyes!
Making friends on the
road is bittersweet.
Remember that annoying
song by that guy who called himself Hellogoodbye? Well, he hit the nail on
the head when it comes to long-term travel.
I love to explore with
other travellers, hear their stories and tips, and even tag along with them for
a while. During a recent trip to Indonesia I met three different groups of friends
and saying our goodbyes was horrible! You eat, sleep, drink, laugh and cry with
complete strangers who become your closest friends within a matter of days. They’re
your pals who really get you and
understand the real side to travel (the 14 hour trains, squat toilets and lazy
days). However, your friendship is doomed from the start. Reality has a way of
biting you in the ass and your different journeys, plans and ideas can’t be
forced together, no matter how much you want them to.
Saying goodbyes to my family
and friends – both old and new – has become easier as my journey goes on but my
heart still breaks a little bit each time I have to leave!
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| Pals on the road |
You’ll Have to Buy a New Wardrobe
I’ll never forget the
time I returned to the U.K. after my first big trip away and I couldn’t find a
single thing to wear. I’m not just talking about a silly freak out about
nothing looking good on me; I felt claustrophobic and awkward in every item of
clothing from my pre-travel life.
What I’d expected to be
a happy reunion with my wardrobe after 18 months of wearing the same worn out,
holey things for too long turned out to be a desperate twenty-minute scramble
for something that didn’t make me feel like I was dressing up as someone I
didn’t recognise.
I’d spent so long
scooting around in bikinis and wearing tie-dye dresses with flip flops on
nights out that choosing a ‘normal’ outfit sent me into a state of panic. I
ended up wearing a crumpled dress out of my backpack that still smelt of cheap
washing powder and sun cream, as it was the only thing that felt familiar.
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| It's a bikini kinda life |
I don’t feel comfortable
in clothes that the ‘old’ me would wear because they no longer reflect who I
am. This whole fashion debacle brings me to the fact that I don’t feel the same
about anything that I did before I
left.
You’ll Never Fit Back Into a 'Normal' Routine
My mind has broadened
immeasurably – I’ve met people, lost people, witnessed horrifying sights and experienced
amazing things that have changed me for good. However, the majority of the
people in my pre-travel life have remained the same, which is both great and
challenging.
Great
because the people that love me keep me grounded when I contemplate running
away to Guatemala despite being broke. They encourage me to make positive
choices because they love me and want to see me happy. Hold on to these humans
and treasure them like your life depends on it. They are my portable support
system while I’m on the road and I need these time zone hopping babes to pick
up when I call at two a.m. just to hear a friendly voice.
Challenging because there will be opinions, comments and conversations with
people who try to pop your happy little travel bubble.
I like to think that
these people don’t know the damaging effects of what they’re saying (or that
they’re doing it at all). Maybe they don’t realise how much strength it takes
to leave on a solo adventure, the physical and mental battles you face along
the way or the joy you’ve experienced living independently for the first time. Whether
they’re jealous, they’re looking out for you or your safety is paramount to
them, just remember why you chose to leave.
After two years of reassuring myself, making difficult decisions and endless
conversations about my career prospects, I’ve built a magical filter that
ignores the unsupportive comments.
When I’m lying in my childhood bedroom, my feet throbbing after a long day working as a waitress in order to fund my next adventure, I like to reflect on why I’m still pursuing this unstable and (sometimes) tricky lifestyle. It’s not that I don’t want to be working on my career, saving for a mortgage and building a grown up life like the rest of my friends, it’s because nothing has stopped me yet.
Until it does, I'm going to enjoy the ride.
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| Sunset in Flores, Indonesia. |
