Travel (is) Light

Lakelife at ‘Delilah’ on Little Hawk Lake, photo by Linda Lord

Travel. Why?

Well, for me, it’s one of the most important perspective-knocking exercises there is.

Sometimes we get so wrapped up in our own lives, our routines, our problems, and our little corners of existence that we forget there is a huge, beautiful world out there. A world full of different ways of doing things, different ways of being, and different ideas about what matters.

I’ve had the incredible privilege of being able to travel throughout my life. I’ve visited well over 30 countries in my 52 years, and I think I came to value travel very early on.

My parents travelled a lot when I was a kid — sometimes on their own, sometimes with me in tow. I have such fond memories of my Gramma coming from Winnipeg to stay with me while they headed off on their various adventures.

I grew up hearing their far-away stories and looking at their pictures. And, of course, this was back in the day when you had to take your film in, wait for it to be developed, and sometimes wait weeks before you could actually see the memories you had captured. Yikes.

But I think those stories planted something in me. I learned early that there was a whole lot more to the world than what I could see from my own front door, and I learned to value the opportunity to go and see it.

Travel takes openness. It takes curiosity. And sometimes, it takes being uncomfortable.

I’m always grateful when I get the chance to experience a place locally — to eat where locals eat, see what they see, experience how they live. It’s even better when someone from that region is along for the ride, showing you the places and experiences that don’t make it into the guidebooks.

Because for me, travelling to another culture is an education. It makes you appreciate, right down to your core, what you have at home and how we live here in Canada.

I sometimes feel a bit sad when I hear people complaining (mostly about politics), or make jokes about how Canada is heading into the bottomless toilet. I’m not offended by it. I just think that sometimes it comes from a lack of perspective or put more boldly, a place of ignorance.

That’s not to say there aren’t things here we can improve. Of course there are. There are absolutely things we can dislike, challenge, and wish were different.

But when you’ve had the opportunity to visit someone’s home in India — in a village that had just received its first borehole for water — and you realize that before that, they simply had no reliable access to water, well, it changes you.

You start looking differently at the things we take for granted every single day.

And here’s the part that really stayed with me: that village, and the family whose home we visited, was filled with some of the happiest and proudest people I’ve ever met. They had so little by our standards, yet their warmth, generosity, and genuine happiness - was enormous.

It made me think about that familiar idea of the happy man with one pair of shoes and the unhappy man with forty pairs. In my opinion, happiness has far less to do with what we have than we think it does.

So what does travel really teach? It teaches us to enter the zone of discomfort.

Let’s be honest: the act of getting from home to our final destination has changed dramatically over the decades. Travel is more accessible than ever, and it’s no longer an elite sport. It certainly isn’t always glamorous.

Crowded airports, delayed flights, missed connections, lost luggage and plans that suddenly make absolutely no sense anymore can all be stressful. Sometimes really stressful. And as I get older, I’ll admit, these realities get to me a little more than they used to.

I have to remind myself to let it go. Ride the wave of whatever. Things usually get worked out. You will get there eventually. And sometimes the unexpected detour ends up becoming the best part of the trip.

That lesson — letting go of control — might be one of travel’s greatest gifts.

When I think about all the tools we use every day that seem to be dividing us rather than bringing us together, I consider travel to be a tool for the latter.

It brings us face-to-face with people who are different from us. The food, the weather, the clothing, the routines, the way people speak, the language, the customs, the behaviours and the rhythm of everyday life can all be completely different from ours.

And I think that is so incredibly cool.

And then - there’s the BEAUTY!

The snowy mountains of Western Canada, rappelling through canyons in Arizona, driving the peaks and valleys of New Zealand, watching sunsets in Greece, walking the beaches of Portugal, pulling an all-nighter with the best of strangers over pints of Guinness in London, wandering cobblestone streets in Spain, swimming in the Cayman Islands, whale watching in Mexico, the coastal drives of Newfoundland, laughing with children in Ghana, wanting to adopt every single street dog we met on our trek in Peru. Standing completely gob-smacked in front of the Taj Mahal in India.

But let’s be real… being gob-smacked was every moment in India!

These aren’t just memories. They’ve become part of the fabric of who I am.

They’ve challenged my assumptions, expanded my understanding, made me grateful, made me uncomfortable, made me laugh and made me stop and stare. And I hope they’ve made me a little kinder, a little more tolerant, a little more curious and perhaps even a little wiser.

Maybe that’s what travel really gives us. Not just photographs, not just stories, and not just a stamp in a passport.

Perspective.

It’s the reminder that our way isn’t the only way. That our problems aren’t always as big as they feel. That happiness doesn’t necessarily come from having more shit. And that people who live very differently from us can still want the same fundamental things we do: to love, to laugh, to belong, to be safe, to care for their families and to live a good life.

So I’ll keep packing the bag. I’ll keep getting on the plane. I’ll keep getting lost, feeling uncomfortable, eating unfamiliar food, meeting strangers, seeing things I don’t understand and occasionally wondering why the hell I thought this was a good idea.

Because somewhere between Point A and Point B, there is always the possibility of seeing the world — and ourselves — a little differently.

And honestly, I think that’s a pretty good reason to go somewhere. London, England - here we come!