Discovering Wisdom: My Insights from Three Years of Backpacking in My Late 30s
Alternative goals that are worth pursuing at middle age
One brisk March morning in 2022, I woke up in my modest desert cabin at the break of dawn. As I rubbed my sleepy eyes on top bunk of the bed, my surroundings brought a sense of déjà vu, reminiscent of my college dorm days. This cozy room didn’t have a private bathroom. With a yawn and a stretch, I ventured out to the shared bathroom, braving the lingering chill of early spring that made every breath manifest as a visible, frosty fog around my face.
In the distance, the silhouette of a majestic mountain gradually unveiled itself under the soft, nascent sunlight. A faint moon and several shimmering stars seemed to resist fading into the background of the retreating night sky. It was a scene so surreal. It took my breath away.
Moments later, I returned to my cabin, preparing for the day’s work ahead. Seated on the lower bunk of my bed, I was greeted by two starkly contrasting windows. Through one, I gazed at the aforementioned surreal landscape, and felt the lingering cold from my earlier bathroom run. In the other, the screen of my laptop displayed a lengthy lineup of head-to-head meetings that awaited me throughout the day.
I started to question myself: which window represented the real life? The physical one or the digital one? I fell into a train of deep thoughts…
In my previous blog, I shared my story about how I transformed from a machine learning scientist to a global nomad during the last few years. It was the deep-thought moments like this that gradually reshaped my view of the world and my aspiration of life. This blog will draw concrete pictures on the three key elements throughout my journey (which were mentioned in my previous blog): the connection with nature, the connection with people’s lives, and the connection with human history and culture. I hope by reading this blog you will get an idea why they are important and how they make travel meaningful to me.
First, the connection to nature forms the very bedrock of one’s journey of self-discovery, both physically and mentally. The act of immersing oneself in the natural world possesses the remarkable capacity to rekindle the vitality within every cell of his/her body. I vividly recall experiencing this potent sensation while bathing in the steaming water of a hot spring in the frigid -20 degrees Fahrenheit of Fairbank, Alaska. The sensation on my face was as though something sharp was scraping it, sending shivers down my spine, while my body was submerged in warmth as though it was receiving a gentle massage. The stark contrast between the two sensations was nothing short of enchanting. Similarly strong and exhilarating body sensations occurred when I took an open-air shower amidst the verdant woods of the Santa Monica Mountains on a cold winter night, kayaked through the mysterious swamp of New Orleans on a humid spring day, and dived into the crystalline depths of a Cenote in Mexico on a hot summer afternoon.
When one’s body melds with the nature, an overwhelming sense of empowerment, deep-seated affection, and spiritual fortitude takes root. This profound intimacy with nature reached a spiritual level during my visit to Sedona, Arizona. There, I found myself utterly intoxicated by the breathtaking vistas that surrounded me. As I leisurely sipped a glass of cocktail, my gaze fixed upon the splendid, copper-hued mountains that graced Sedona’s skyline. It’s worth noting that Sedona’s very name was a homage to the city’s first postmaster’s wife, who probably regarded these majestic mountains as the embodiment of his beloved wife— a sentiment I couldn’t help but share.
Second, much like how my connection with nature cleansed both my body and soul, my interaction with the lives of others ignited an imagination that extended far beyond the boundaries of my own existence, allowing me to embark on a boundless voyage through the myriad wonders of other people’s lives.
During the spring of 2022, I met an Airbnb Experience host in Atlanta. Despite I was the sole guest, my host still graciously proceeded with the planned tour I already booked. He introduced me to some of the city’s finest bars, regaled me with captivating tales from his global travels, and enlightened me on how he sustained himself as a bartender while on the road. What stood out most was his insight on approaching someone he found attractive in a bar. “The trick,” he confidently asserted, “is to resist the urge to approach immediately upon making eye contact. Instead, smile, give some space, enjoy a drink, and make your move when your eyes meet once more.”
Regrettably, I’ve never successfully deployed this tactic in any bar. Little did he know that, for a tech nerd like me, the real challenge wasn’t the second eye contact; it was, in fact, achieving the elusive first eye contact. But thanks to him, Atlanta became a city of charm to me.
Another time, I attended a BBQ shrimp cooking class in a chef’s house in New Orleans. His name was Jack. When I entered his lush and serene front yard, I found that his house exuded a quintessential charm of southern architecture.
After greeting me, he first prepared a mouthwatering Caprese salad, using the fragrant basil he nurtured right on the windowsill of his living room. The aroma alone was a sensory delight. He then taught me the trick to peel and smash garlic fast, mix it with boiling butter, and make the sauce. While we were cooking and talking, he told me that he used to be a restaurant owner, and survived Covid by turning his business into a local catering service, hosting cooking classes, and providing venue for local community concert. Now everyone in the neighborhood knew his little concert in his front yard.
Moments later, a college girl who stayed in his Airbnb walked into the dining room. She said her dad awarded her this trip for her birthday, but they would be driving back to their midwest hometown the next day. After knowing that I had grown up in China, she said she used to study abroad in Taiwan in high school, where she learned a lot of Chinese in a host family. A midwest town girl who spoke Chinese, met me in a chef’s house at New Orleans. What a small world it was!
Later that night, I was riding a cable car through the dim, rain-soaked streets back to my hotel on Bourbon Street.
I pondered a profound question: could it be that these highly unpredictable and serendipitous encounters were the very essence of a truly captivating life experience?
Third, the final aspect of my travel centered around my connection with history and culture. As an engineer, I used to find history rather dull, as it seemed detached from my own life and emotions. Take, for instance, the well-known fact of President Kennedy’s assassination, which I’d encountered countless times as a mere historical tidbit stored in my memory.
It wasn’t until a fateful day when I stood on the very street in Dallas, gazing upon the three indelible gunshot marks, and beheld the somber and empty memorial, did history cease to be a distant concept.
In that moment, it drew near, so close that I could almost hear heartbeats of the history, the echoes of the actual gunshots.
Furthermore, when I read an excerpt from the speech President Kennedy was to deliver on November 22, 1963 — “We in this country, in this generation, are — by destiny rather than choice — the watchmen on the walls of world freedom” — I was moved to the brink of tears. Traveling to historical sites and experiencing history in person, I found that everything became alive.
Similar lively experiences happened in my encounter with Jazz in New Orleans. I took a cruise trip along the Mississippi River one day at sunset. While I had certainly heard jazz music on numerous occasions, I had struggled to truly connect with the genre on a personal level. However, on that particular day, as the mellifluous strains of “What a Wonderful World” drifted into my ears during a live jazz performance aboard the cruise ship, something remarkable happened.
Leaning against the handrail, bathing in the warm, golden sunlight of the setting sun, and marvelling at the glistening waves of the Mississippi River, I felt an unprecedented connection with Jazz.
It was as if, for the very first time, the music had found its way into the depths of my heart, forging an unbreakable bond.
Steve Jobs’ famous Stanford speech unveiled what true love meant: expecting a mere six months left to live, what would one choose to do? Similarly, Jeff Bezos presented a thought-provoking regret test: how much remorse would you have, at the age of 80, if you hadn’t pursue your dreams at a young age? For me, the prospect of regret on not starting a journey I want now looms unacceptably high.
I’ve done a test drive for a nomadic life through part-time backpacking in the past three years. It felt good, but as you can see, still with a lot of questions to be answered. Now it’s the time to speed up and hit more roads! Stay tuned to read more of my thoughts on family, marriage, relationships, and career (e.g. why did I quit my job and what am I going to do next?) in the next few blogs.
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