People, places, and...

Recently,I asked myself why I travel. I’d found myself in a situation where I was being told I needed to be more approachable. That my appearance and stance came off as quite stand-offish and I needed to tweak it some. So, I began ruminating on why I’m constantly told this. I’ve heard many variations of this same advice since I arrived in the United States many moons ago as a young girl, and I just couldn’t and can’t get it. For a few years I did my damndest to ‘fix’ myself,to make myself more welcoming and in the important places there has been improvement.The first ten years of my life were not what one would call ideal, so I grew a thick skin to survive. A big chunk of that thickness was composed of being wary of people and untrusting. As I experienced more of life, layers began to shed and it wasn’t until my early thirties that I finally felt comfortable trusting people, and by that time I’d already step foot in nearly two dozen nations. Yet,somehow I’d become more intimidating. In my lightness, confidence and honest presence, I’d somehow become even less approachable. Walking my dog the evening of the day I was told to be less stand-offish, I scratched my head. ‘Why do I not come off this way when I travel?’ ‘Oh yes,’ I answered myself, ‘because you feel more comfortable in other places.’

The kind of travelling I’ve done since I was 18 is not the luxurious kind. I don’t do hostels, preferring out of the way motels that allow me to see a place for what it is to the locals. I rarely take taxis, preferring public transport or mostly,my two feet. Big tourist areas are not my cup of tea, so I budget exactly 30minutes to explore the Times Squares of cities (I am still recovering from ALL of Amsterdam, years later). And most importantly I make it my business to learn a few key polite words if I’m in a non-English speaking country. This way of travelling has allowed me to see the truth and beauty that lies in dozens of countries on this planet, but most of all it’s the people. The people are what make a place, and I cannot tell you how many incredible people have happily approached me on my travels. From the motorbike taxi drivers I befriended by Ayutthaya in Thailand, to the real estate developers I spent a night drinking and dancing with in Hamburg, Germany, these people have been my tour guides. And not a single one said I was stand-offish and unapproachable. Why then in my ‘home’ country, am I not seen this way? Because…

…I travel because it allows me to be a part of this world as myself without pretext or abbreviation. The moment I got my green card I got the fuck out of dodge. It was only to Toronto, but I can’t tell you how great it was walking solo the multicultural avenues and streets of that Canadian city. I was like ‘whoa, this feels amazing,’and wanted more of it, so from the moment I graduated high school I worked by buns off to pay for school and plane tickets. Okay, so at 19 I was offered a job to be a prostitute in Buenos Aires (‘you will make lots of money,’ she told me),but I also met an older man who introduced me to Malbec, which began my interest in wine. And I’ll never forget the young Zimbabwean I met at a run-down hotel near Kruger National Park, who kept in touch via email for a while, until the day he didn’t. So, so many adventures, encounters and dangerous situations—almost getting robbed by two men in Dakar, Senegal comes to mind—with every single one a gem in my memory to remind me I’m not a stone wall.

I travelled because I loved feeling alive, but at the end of last year, that feeling suddenly disappeared. I no longer felt the need to travel. Yes, I had just done an incredible tour around the world, but just as I didn’t want to travel anymore, I didn’t want to return to where I’d been. After two decades of traversing God’s beautiful earth, I no longer felt the need to go, to move, to search. In a year of being homeless, I’d found a home, a place where I didn’t feel unapproachable, but most importantly a place I felt alive in the way I used to when I’d explore a new locale. That is a very powerful occurrence for a person like me, who from the day of her birth was moved around. I have a picture of that place right next to a picture of Karaka Bay, Auckland, where I understood the insignificance of my presence on this planet. I look at it when I feel lost, especially when I’m told I’m someone I’m not. This place is my north star, what guides me to keep going so I can get there. To finally make it home.

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