When We Travel
When we travel
Gosh, don’t we like to travel? A bit like food and sunny weather, it’s so common that it’s hardly worth stating. Not for all of us, of course, but the large majority.
Something interesting happens when we travel. We’re not really our regular selves. A part of us opens up that is normally closed, and we behave a little differently. You don’t need to be going far away (perhaps this helps), but even a trip to a new town down the road might suffice. It seems to be about novelty.
Trips away are almost always for a short timeframe, we’ve already sunk the costs, we’ve had weeks (or months) to research and build anticipation. Perhaps it’s all just a great energetic release.
Travel and libido
It’s a famous cliche that we tend to especially notice attractive people when travelling; maybe a glance on the London Underground or in line at an airport. This is surprising – these places are typically seen as pretty unromantic and to be escaped as quickly as possible. But it doesn’t seem to matter.
It doesn’t stop once we’re at our destination, either. For a surprising number of people, hotel check-in leads to a heightened sex drive. Something just seems to comes over people. Again, on the surface this makes no sense. Why should our libido spike when being presented with a new room and a mattress that has seen hundreds of other couples go at it previously? Pay no mind.
For the single, there’s always the fantasy of a holiday fling. Find a cute local and enjoy an evening together, no-strings-attached. Maybe it’s the lack of consequences? Our anonymity? A fun sort of recklessness starts brewing.
Openness
It’s not just sex, of course. When we travel, we are open to all sorts of novelty. We’re seeking new experiences, even those we would never entertain at home, because “we’re on holiday”.
What are we doing? Are we exacting revenge on our everyday humdrum lives? What are trips like for those who a free from having to work and toil?
Why aren’t we like this normally? Is it the scarcity? Accomplished home cooks will note that they can never quite seem to perfectly recreate the local dishes they encounter on holiday, even if the ingredients and method match perfectly. You can get close… but no cigar. Is it something about the state we were in when we first tried that one incredible meal? The one we had in the garden at sunset?
The illusion laid bare
Of course, if we moved there, we’d surely change.
Those who have turned holidays into their everyday lives will have witnessed the transition. The practical realities setting in; appointments to register at the embassy, local traffic and recycling laws. You develop detailed opinions about the local markets and maybe even start to actively avoid the tourists. Before long, you feel like you need a holiday.
It’s also true that the place might retain much of its magic, but it up to us to appreciate it and keep that fire burning within ourselves. If the trick is within us, I suppose the phenomenon we’re witnessing is mostly internal – that far flung and exotic places help us to re-engage with a part of ourselves we’ve lost.
Bringing it home
If we can do this on holiday, why don’t we at home? Somewhere between the meetings, spreadsheets and emails, the traffic jams and bleak headlines, we seem to have lost touch with our sense of Wanderlust; our innate ability to be awed and inspired like a child would.
This need not be the case. Our internal world is ours to steer. If we can make a regular commitment to ourselves to seek out wonder, it need not require a large exotic destination at all (these are always nice, though). It could be trying out a new recipe together with friends or exploring a new hobby with total strangers. Vulnerability can be exciting.
If we can remember to maintain this commitment to ourselves, perhaps we’d take fewer holidays and need them a bit less. Even mentioning the idea of taking fewer trips abroad feels somewhat sacrilege, they are so important to us emotionally. Perhaps this is a useful tell. We need our exoticism, our relief, to exercise our Wanderlust.
But I think it might be possible to enter a state of near-permanent holiday. It would take work, naturally. But if one could constantly challenge themselves, be challenged, move around locally, try out new classes, recipes, meet new people in new groups, subert their own expectations and learn how to re-engage with life playfully… it might just lead to a healthy and sustainable shift within one’s self. Our sense of wonder can re-emerge just about anywhere. So why not here?