On The Stress of Travel and Being

 Everything has an end point. An apex.  A rock bottom. That place where the only direction you can go is down or up. Or maybe nowhere at all.

One of my many nicknames is The Prize Winning Travel Pig named Andrew. The etymology of this in-joke is lengthy. Suffice it to say that it refers to an ability to win competitions: admissions and awards which are conducive to continued travels.

When I arrived for grad school in Wroclaw, I expected to settle well into local life. My summer internship in Thailand and Cambodia had been one of my more trying positions. My home-stay in Pakistan was an eye opening but uncertain adventure.  It was time to head back down. I know and love Poland. Travel there would be like coming home to a different world.

Then I got called away to Slovenia for citizenship matters. Twice to Ukraine for scholarship reasons. And back to South Hills for Christmas break.  Professors complained regarding my absences. I made a comeback to earn the equivalent of straight A’s that January. Even as Poland’s winter took its toll.  I still felt like I needed a vacation after I returned from February’s family trip through Italy, Malta and Tunisia.
That wasn’t an option. One of my closest friends contacted me while I was in Valletta  She wanted to know if she could visit in Poland. I knew the country and language. So, she asked if I’d show her the major cities. Of course I agreed. I immensely enjoyed my friend's company. The exercise of the trip drove me into the ground. I’d hit rock bottom. It was time to rest.

My USC Marshall international studies coordinator always encouraged students to develop a connection with were one studies abroad, instead of compulsively traveling to neighboring countries. I agree with him. During this semester I was finally able to take his advice.

It was liberating.  For the first time in a while, I lived at a slower pace for an extended time period. I attended class and cooked my meals. I dealt with reading of my utility meters. As corny as it sounds, I had time to contemplate my existence.

The liberation became oppressive after a few months. Attending class and going to the store became an outing. The squeal of a neighbor’s door bell began to spike my nerves.  My refuge became contemplation of my past through novels and childhood escapades.  There was no promise in the future. No reason to look forward.

 I enjoyed my time in Wroclaw. But after a few months, everyday activities became strenuous. I’ll have been here basically 4 months by June. I haven’t stayed in any city that long since I was 16. Stress is a masochistic alcohol. The less one habitually intakes, the more it’s effect.

I’ve contacted the same friend who visited me in Poland. We’re going to Ireland this June. The next family trip is in the works. It will be in some tropical local. I’ll be interning in Luxembourg this summer too. Hopefully, it will lead to farther opportunities.  The only place to go is up. The only way out is through. It’s time to reach for a new apex. 

The Land of A-thousand Suprises

I hate surprises. They almost always end up being something bad.  That bombshell in your inbox. A negative or no longer wanted response to a forgotten query. The shock of an unsolicited phone call.

Travel was always a refuge for me. A place to escape from life’s reality.  Even after days of logistical set-backs, belligerent drunks, or sleepless nights on university sponsored excursions.  At least, I’d left everyday life’s problems behind.    

There are also places that make an impression. Those I thought would be lackluster.  A well-known monument may disappoint. But, the unsuspected sometimes leaves its  mark.  Despite the up’s and down’s, I thought that I’d never tire of traveling

And then I did. The beginning of May in Poland is called ‘Majówka’.  It’s a de facto holiday season. Many on my program traveled to Italy or other locations. I stayed in Wrocław despite the risk of boredom. It was better than facing more stress of the unknown.

Stress I’ve known here is different from what I’d experienced in the past.  The unknown comes to you. Surprises call at your front door; they’re never good.  They don’t stop after a two week excursion. I’ve long wanted to tour to the Baltic states.  I have a few weeks free this June. Yet, I lack the energy.

I used to long for travel to new lands. In the past year I’ve noticed a change.  Travel options are relatively limited from Wrocław’s airport. It’s still easy to reach unexplored western European cities. After my travel-bloated fall semester it just means another trip to the airport. Another hotel I may not be able to find.
Next year, I’m studying in Vienna. Many flight’s go to western and eastern Europe. I can easily fly to northern Italy or Latvia. But, locations I’ve already been to now hold more attraction. A discount airline flies from Budapest to Skopje. I’ve spent months in Hungary’s capital. I can get to its airport. Macedonia’s western lakes are impressive. I know what to expect.   

There’s also a certain fear.  What if the places I’ve visited don’t measure up to the memory?  The circumstances under which I see them will be different.  I haven’t been back to Maldives in five years. During Iftari at Karachi’s boat club, I vowed to return to Pakistan during February of this year.  I visited a friend’s family in Tunisia instead. Macedonia’s Lake Ochrid may not measure up.  Unexpected hazards may present themselves. Time differentiates the known and the newly  discovered.       

This afternoon, I received a rare surprise. After a year of grad school and a summer internship with the European Investment Bank’s Finance Directorate in Luxembourg , I’d planned to return home for a few weeks rest. My parents had informed me we’d be going on a tropical vacation. I wouldn’t know where until I saw our connecting flight’s destination.

 It could be to Mexico, Miami, to French Polynesia, the BVI, or back to Nicaragua for all I know. It’s the first time in a while that I can live with the surprise.

I ordinarily would have inquired about our destination. For better or worse I didn’t. Not knowing in this case would mean something.  I’m reminded of trips to Russia, Spain, and my first travel to Poland.  When the focus was not on the stresses I’d encounter - but on the wonders I’d find.

I appear to be doing fine in the short-term.  Yet, I’ve come to fear the future. It’s the perpetual surprise; many pundits predict it negatively for my generation.

the respite of my parents’ undiscovered country awaits me.  Before what may ever be after it:  The final frontier where none of us want to cross. 

The Promised Land. An Undiscovered Country. And A-List Problems.

I thought my life would be better when my parents moved back to California. I’d spent my childhood there. We lived five years in Florida.  I thought things would go back to the way they were. They didn’t. Family members I’d known as nurturing accused me of being a spoiled traitor for enjoying travels to Poland, Russia and other foreign countries. During those past five years Walnut, CA had become a promised land. It didn’t measure up. I felt betrayed.

After that I never stopped traveling. My first home abroad was a dorm room in Beijing’s no.4 High School. I only had a roommate for a few days. He dropped out of our program. I was able to experience life abroad. The cafeteria’s bad food set me on a hunger strike after a couple of weeks. For the first time, I had my own friends; my own space.

Come to think of it, I’ve never had a roommate for an extended period of time.  I shared an apartment with family and acquaintances in Maldives. I took the multiple balconies and maid service for granted at the time. The interpersonal drama drove me up the walls. It also motivated me to journalistic success.

 I lived by myself in Bucharest too.  The apartment had an ionic view of the Palace of Parliament. I often reveled in it while cooking meals of my creation, or enjoying Moldovan wine. I dutifully cleaned the floors, and sprayed for cockroaches at midnight.  It took a visit from my mother to remind me that the place was a shit hole. No hot water. The balcony filled with standing water. Broken window panes.  Still, it was mine.  

During the latter half of that summer I lived in another dorm.  The impossible happened. My roommates were my best friends on the program.  We had some minor disagreements. But, our Polish courses finished after 6 weeks. As one of them put it: “it’s after two months that the drama starts to happen.” I’ve had the experience. I’m done with it.

At USC, I was forced to share an apartment for a year and a half. I had my own room. Yet, the situation was insufferable. Returning South Hills became a boon. My high school friends grew closer. I eventually moved back.  College became a necessary evil.

I’ve lived in other locales since then. There is something new you learn to appreciate in each city. Some more desirable than others.  In Budapest, I reveled in my flat’s grand piano, chandlers and short walk to the opera. In Bangkok, I lived on my balcony. I was forced to cook pizza with a hot plate.

Right now, I’m living in Poland. In a one bedroom apartment for what couldn’t buy a studio in the West.  I’ve never seen a roach. Everything works according to its Ikea design. I don’t need my mother to tell me that it’s not a shit hole. I dutifully vacuum my own floors.  I keep from my balcony for fear of unwanted solicitors.

Next year I’ll study in Vienna.  The best I can hope for is one room with no balcony. But, I know I'll live alone. Pursuing an uncompromising future. The rent will be more than for my Polish flat. The standard of accommodation will be less. I’ll learn to live with it. Yet, I now  realize what I’m embarking on.

I recently saw Verdi’s La Traviata.  In it, the protagonist’s father attempts to remind him of the pleasures his family’s home offers.          

 Our house is near Walnut. We call it The Village. I miss its multiple verandas. The effluent privacy;. its effortless cleanliness. Its manicured yards.  I hope its balconies shall always exist. That the friends I’ve made since Florida will be eternal.  I can’t help but long for the respite my summer return will bring. But what awaits beyond its premises?  

Once I leave my family’s home, my future can only be global.   

I must move ahead. Despite the difficulty. To improve my accommodations . To create The Village again in a new land. On my own terms.

Even if it’s impossible.