Wanderlust and Other Reflections

Will there ever come a time in my life when I read about someone else's adventures without being envious? A time when I don't get that familiar knot in my stomach and a sudden desire to drop everything and explore the world? Sometimes I hope not; and other times I can't wait since there's never money enough or time (there's plenty of world!) to do it all.

It's so bad that even reading fiction can bring on these urges to drop everything and hop on a plane. Reading El medico, I found myself wishing I had been born centuries ago to embark on a journey of such proportions at a time when the world was so much bigger--travelling from England to Persia in the middle ages! Nowadays it's hard to find an equivalent for such an adventure.

Even as a little girl, I was enchanted by the adventures of Laura Ingles Wilder. I wanted to explore the Big Woods, churn my own butter, and ride the prairie alone on my horse. I think I would have been a great pioneer. ;)

My current book, Captive in Arabia, the biography of an adventurous (and maybe crazy) French-Basque woman, Marga d'Andurain, has got me thinking: am I like that? She can't seem to stay in one place for long, and is constantly searching for adventure and escape from the routine. I think perhaps I am similar, but with healthy dose of common sense. One of her craziest adventures involved marrying a Bedouin man with the sole purpose of using him as a passport to visit Mecca, Medina and other sacred cities of Islam. This was in the late 1920's. No European woman had ever done such a thing before. She spoke very poor Arabic, knew nearly nothing about Islam (however, she was officially converted), was unfamiliar with the Bedouin customs; and if she was discovered as a fake, she and her "husband" would be killed!

That doesn't appeal to me.

However, the lure of undiscovered paradises, new experiences, hidden beaches, mountains, or exotic foods never lets travel get far out of my mind. A few weeks ago I got a mass email from one of my high school best friend's younger sisters who is working in Tajikistan at the moment. As I read about her adventures, I couldn't suppress my desire to experience such a radically different culture. Not even the first few paragraphs dedicated to the mealy worms found swimming in her favorite breakfast lessened my urge to rush to Malaga and catch a plane to Tajikistan.

Some of you might ask, isn't it enough to live abroad? Yes, except that living somewhere inherently means confronting the day to day, mundane reality of a place. In the beginning, those daily parts of life abroad are part of the adventure--they're novel--but slowly they become a part of reality to such an extent that they lose the luster of "otherness" and show themselves to be merely the way things are. Still, that transition from novelty to routine, is a gratifying experience in itself; it's a measure of just how much one has become a part of a place and visa-versa.

Having lived here for four years now, I certainly feel a part of this place. Spain and Andalucia have changed me and continue to shape who I am. When I travel back to the US for visits, I experience something like a dual reality: there is the American me, who knows the ropes; and the semi-Spaniard who is shocked by the enormity of Costco ketchup bottles.

Yesterday I came across this quote from Nelson Mandela: "There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." The real beauty and adventure of travel are the experiences and opportunities to change that it affords. Perhaps, what I really love about travelling is the element of self-discovery.

Does that mean boredom with my Self is the cause of my feverish need to go places? ;)

My sister Maggie has just begun her own travel adventure. She's now arrived in Belgium where she'll be participating in the Rotary Youth Exchange program for the year. Reading her blog, "Bonjour Belgique", I can't help but think about how much this year will change her. Inevitably, I'm a little envious, but as they say in Spanish it's "envidia sana" (healthy envy). I'm proud of her for taking such a big step, and at the same time I can't believe she's done it. I left home for college when Maggie was nine years old, and somehow she and Lucy are still babies in my mind.

Maggie's exchange is irrefutable proof that my sisters are growing up. Lucy will be a senior at PHS this school year. And soon my parents will be empty nesters! While I can't believe that my "baby" sisters are getting so big, I am proud of the beautiful, strong, intelligent people they are becoming. In the case of my sisters, it's something like the opposite of Mandela's quote--seeing how much they have changed, forces me to see the unperceived changes in myself.