Low Points
It bears noting that our journey is, on one level, quite ordinary. There exist multiple guidebooks for every country; literally books telling you exactly what to do, where to stay, what to eat, how to get to that spot where you can take that picture. Tripadvisor, Yelp, and AirBnB are as common here as anywhere in the states, all but eliminating the risk of a ‘bad experience.’ Improving infrastructure and cheap flights to literally everywhere compliment these travel aids; dramatically reducing the difficulty, discomfort, and unknown of long-term travel. Hundreds, if not thousands of Americans take trips of similar ambition every year. At least three have written comprehensive, blogs authored to our exact demographic; documenting extensive, multi-year trips across this continent with a level of precision and style that makes feeling ‘off the beaten path’ a bit of a farce. Travel, in the 21st century, with (all but) universal cellular data coverage, and a world of 2 billion other ‘wanderlust’ millennials, is neither difficult nor extraordinary. It is truly just a thing that some people do.
However, within our circle of friends and family, amongst the ‘responsible class’ of late 20 /early 30 something aspiring professionals pursuing a fairly standard, linear path — university →job →student loans →house →mortgage →pet →kid →kid →mortgage →college savings →retirement →death — our journey does represent a bit of an anomaly. Some might consider it nonlinear, some might say unwise, others might be envious — regardless, it is a bit strange.
My point here is that we — while not exactly yee ol brave pioneers crossing the Andes on foot circa 1800 — are taking a different path at the moment.
Our natural human (or at least 21st century American human) tendency is to glorify the areas in which we are different — if indeed we can identify any. When we stray from the pack, it’s a risk. We don’t want to be found foolish for doing so. This doesn’t just apply to travel, but to decisions about where we live, how we vote (and why), where we work, when we achieve(d) critical life benchmarks; what kind of car we drive; pizza we like, etc.
Proving or implying the superiority of this difference in our lives is not the goal. In fact, we were hoping to buck this tendency.
We started this blog and kept it private in an effort to connect with each of you instead of putting distance between our experience and yours. In this moment, where our story is a little out of the ordinary, we want the lessons we learn to be of some value beyond ourselves. We want to translate those things we are learning on the road to the important questions we all have to deal with back home. And we felt that our ability to do so was/is limited to the folks we know well, those who we’ve built up a significant enough relationship with to speak truth. You.
However, as things get busy with work and our pace of travel increases, we’re neglecting telling about those deeper issues we’re wrestling with in favor of regular updates on where we are and what we’re doing.
Don’t get me wrong. Travel is amazing. Travel with Rachel is even better than amazing. The ability to experience so many new places and people and food for such a long time with the person I love most in this life is a privilege that does not escape me, and one for which I am immensely grateful.
However, it hasn’t all been penguins, mountains and darling villages.
This journey has brought its share of challenges. Like most things, I think they can be broadly categorized into several boxes:
Sometimes we aren’t nice to each other: When we get stressed, we often take it out on each other. I can get really tense and be short with Rachel for no reason. I can be dramatic about problems and make them seem worse than they are, sometimes just to help Rachel feel my same level of tension/pressure (lovely, yes). I can even get bossy (I know, difficult to imagine). When Rachel gets stressed she usually clams up and isn’t very communicative. At times, she becomes demanding and critical of out-of-order details which usually don’t bother her.
Sometimes we worry about what we’re missing out on: I say it a lot, but prioritizing one good thing often means missing out on another. Prioritizing travel, movement, and isolated time together in this moment does not mean that we aren’t going to have time for puppies, and kids, and a home, and community and all that good stuff at some point down the road. However, the decision to travel does put those things on hold and adds a bit of uncertainty at a time in life where most of our closest friends are enjoying these blessings. Long-term travel at 30 is much different than long-term travel at 20 or 25. Different, almost entirely meaning: more difficult. Even though we don’t have a mortgage, or a car payment, or pets, — or anything tangible really — tying us back in the States, there’s nothing glamorous about packing and re-packing your backpack, your ‘home’ every 4 days. We miss our friends and family. We miss consistency. We miss our life. And all of those ‘misses’ are attached to clocks which seemed to tick a bit quieter a decade ago.
Sometimes we have trouble staying in the present: This issue is more complicated for me than usual on this trip as I’ve wrestled with two ‘projects’ throughout our time in Latin America which will have implications on our next move from here. This work consumed much of my mental and emotional energy over the last four months and definitely detracts from the experience of exploration down here, where I am. Rachel, on the other hand, would very much like to start working in her new profession and wants a puppy, yesterday. However, it’s not just these longer term, strategic thoughts that have us missing out on the present. The short-term challenges get us too. Planning a six-month trip takes time. For us, that means long afternoons thinking about where we’re going next while we’re somewhere we wanted to go. This isn’t all bad. I really like planning trips to new places, but at times, we definitely feel the irony. And even though the internet and improving infrastructure has eased the pain of travel itself, there is still a lot of downtime. At this very moment, in fact, I am on a bus at 11:45pm, wishing I was in my (as yet unseen) bed in the next town. If I weren’t writing this very essay, the beautiful truth that: 1) I’m on a late night bus in a foreign country; 2) hurdling across the very bottom of the planet; 3) towards one of the most beautiful national parks in the world; 4) on a work night…would totally have escaped me. This — like so many others — is a moment to savor, not wish away.
And finally, sometimes travel is just completely and utterly un-glamorous: Every time we move to a different place we spend time unpacking and carefully re-packing our backpacks. We have to buy the right amount of water to last us until our next move, and we have to find new grocery stores and laundry facilities. Our sleep schedules are messed up, we eat way too many empanadas, and we don’t exercise consistently. Sometimes we go way too long without washing our clothes; most of the time we look like complete disasters.
So, as you read this (likely from your home in the US), please don’t get the impression that its all lovely islands and penguins and wine tours down here. I mean it is, but it is also getting testy with each other on last-minute, late-night planning sprees, taking twice as long to do basic things because the internet sucks, and missing you guys like crazy.
A journey is not about the highs, but how you handle the lows. And frankly, I don’t handle them all that well.
But, here we are. We’re traveling across a continent. We hope that you’ll keep us in your prayers.
