The Reluctant Traveler

The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page. Well, that’s what they say.

Would it be so shocking to hear that I (gasp) am not as into the whole travel-while-you-can brouhaha that’s sweeping people from all corners of the globe, especially the younger set? What if I’m perfectly happy with the one page that I’m on?

Sure. I’d love to stand under the cherry trees in full bloom in Japan. I’d love to wander through Angkor Wat in Cambodia. I’d love to climb to Machu Picchu in Peru. I’d love to sample authentic dim sum in China and pastas and fine wine in Italy. I’d love to explore all the spectacular beaches in the Philippines and in the Pacific islands. I’d love to ride a bike through the Netherlands, people-watch in France and eat the freshest food at a long table with friends in a Greek courtyard.

There are so many things I’d love to do. But I am not loving all the planning and spending that is involved in going on trips to new destinations.

I’ve given it quite some thought in my earlier 20s. Where I live, employment opportunities aren’t as lucrative as they used to be, so it’s common practice for people to pack up and move to a different country where they can earn bigger wages and send money home to help out their families.

My own meager salary was just enough to pay my rent, care for a pet, feed the both of us, and indulge in the occasional retail therapy or weekend staycation. It wasn’t much, but I had no debts to worry about, no kids to raise, and no other pressing financial concerns, so life was comfortable and hassle-free, and that is something I am proud of.

I did, however, entertain the idea of moving to a different country to get a higher paying job. I could speed up the growth of my savings account or I could put money toward investments that would earn me more so that I could buy a house, a car, and a business that would keep me financially set for life. That’s what other people were doing with the money they earned from their stints abroad (well, there were quite a number who remained in the country they worked in and squandered away all their money, but that’s another story altogether).

The thing was, the thought of having to process all the paperwork necessary to send myself abroad already put a damper on any enthusiasm I ever had about the prospect of working in and exploring another country. All the permits, clearances, the visa, the passport, the CVs, the application forms, the tickets, the employment documents — I can’t seem to motivate myself to take care of them all. In my country, that involved long lines, several hours (or even days) of waiting, inefficient government agencies sending you back and forth from one office to another, fees, cash-outs…it was all just too much work for me.

I’d probably be more motivated to take care of all the work if working abroad was the only option I had of living a decent life, or if I could spend the rest of my days just exploring the remarkable sites all over the world without having to think about a job that pays for all my travels. But I’m quietly happy with my simple, uncomplicated life in my home country, and for the time being, there’s simply no reason to bury myself in a flurry of documents and forms and fly to another continent.