When I look back on the influential moments of my life thus far, so many of them are tied to places I've visited. Memories from these trips sneak up on me every so often, years or even decades later. The other morning I was standing at the drinking fountain at work and got a faint whiff of something - imagine something similar to the smell of new IKEA furniture - and I was transported back to the bedroom where I stayed in high school during my first trip to Germany. I hadn't thought of that bedroom in years, but suddenly I was remembering the layout, the confusing way the bed was made and its uncomfortable metal frame, the way the carpet met the tile in the hallway, and how my host mom used to put an assortment of snacks and mineral water on the bedroom floor for me when I got home from school each day.
Of course, I didn't think just of those mental snapshots. I thought about the feelings of being there, as a 16-year-old, awkward yet mature, very conscious of how much baggier my jeans looked compared to those worn by German girls my age, worried about my German pronunciation of everything, but willing to give it a shot. I am so glad I did.
Looking back on this stuff, I'm even more convicted to live in each moment. But, because I'm me, I still can't help but hang onto those things that help me briefly return to that time and place. I've since thrown away many ticket stubs, travel brochures and various tchotchkes, but if there's anything I know I'll hang onto as long as humanly possible, it's these things.
Of course, I didn't think just of those mental snapshots. I thought about the feelings of being there, as a 16-year-old, awkward yet mature, very conscious of how much baggier my jeans looked compared to those worn by German girls my age, worried about my German pronunciation of everything, but willing to give it a shot. I am so glad I did.
Looking back on this stuff, I'm even more convicted to live in each moment. But, because I'm me, I still can't help but hang onto those things that help me briefly return to that time and place. I've since thrown away many ticket stubs, travel brochures and various tchotchkes, but if there's anything I know I'll hang onto as long as humanly possible, it's these things.
1. Travel journals. If I can be disciplined to at least write a list of places I go each day during my travels, I know that decades later I will be grateful. I can't tell you how glad I am to have kept a thorough journal of that first trip to Germany when I was 16. Not only does it provide a funny portrait of myself that I'll never see in the photos of me from that trip, it shows how I took in the whole experience. It also reminds me that not all travel is glamorous, despite my memories of it being wonderful all the time. It's exhausting, emotional, and disappointing sometimes. I kept other journals during my study abroad trip in college and on our first trip to Paris. Though those aren't nearly as robust as my first one, it's nice to read about what stood out to me and to be reminded of what we did. It's amazing to realize how much I might have otherwise forgotten.
2. Mixtapes. Or in my case, burned CDs. I still have the CD entitled "Spring Break 3!" - third in a series, of course - from a roadtrip I took with my friend Crystal during our junior year of college. I listen to it every once in awhile and can still recall those feelings of freedom mixed with feelings of stress and crushing on boys. Music has the ability to return you to a time and a place, and it's the same with the tunes that carry you through hours in the air or on the road. It's the reason John Coltrane's "In a Sentimental Mood" takes me to London Heathrow, where I sat for hours in a plane on the tarmac, in a snowstorm, waiting to take off, only to deplane and book a flight the next morning. Which sounds kind of miserable, but it was actually one of the rare occasions I got to spend quality time with my brother, and for that reason, a pretty meaningful moment in time.
3. Photos. Obviously. I don't need to elaborate much here. Except to say that in some ways, I think digital photography has made this area easier but also more complicated. We can take waaaaay more photos with our digital cameras, and we know instantly whether they turned out, but on the other side of that, I wonder if we lose meaning in having so many to sort through later. I'm always struck at landmarks when I look around at everyone taking pretty much the same photo, and I start to realize how much we're experiencing all this glorious stuff in front of us through such tiny screens (except for those nerds who take photos with their tablets. wow.). These photos prove we're there, of course, and who can't resist snapping our very own shot of it? But still I try to challenge myself to find other ways of documenting my experience. Though the end results may be boring to everyone else, it's something special for me.
As an example, during my last trip to Rome, I found it more fun to document the hundreds of people trying to nail that perfect nighttime Trevi Fountain shot than trying to do so myself.
4. Personal epiphanies. I feel like the movie Paris, Je T'aime is always on when we're flipping channels. It is filmed as a series of vignettes by different directors, each a tribute to a different arrondessement in Paris. I've seen it just once in its entirety. Since then, though, I've watched this particular vignette multiple times. Upon first viewing, I laughed as soon as the woman began to speak. Her American accent was a stark change from the graceful, sophisticated French we'd heard in all the other scenes. She's Carol, from Denver, and she is reading a report she wrote for her French class about her trip to Paris. As the scene unfolds with her walking around with her fanny pack, you feel her loneliness and even her disappointment in Paris. It is the perfect illustration how travel can be a let-down after romanticizing it for so long (there is such a thing as Paris Syndrome, I've since learned). And also of how what we tell others when we return are often rosier versions of what we actually experienced. But what I love most about this scene is the beautiful, intangible moment she describes at the end of her report. Having been a solo traveler before, and as someone whose love of Paris has gone through a similar awakening, this final scene gives me a lump in my throat each time I watch it. While good food and beautiful views and historical landmarks will likely be catalysts to push you to get out into the world, if that's all you get out of travel, you're missing the point. If you have 6 minutes, take a look. I need not say more. (Watch it here if you don't see the video below.)
2. Mixtapes. Or in my case, burned CDs. I still have the CD entitled "Spring Break 3!" - third in a series, of course - from a roadtrip I took with my friend Crystal during our junior year of college. I listen to it every once in awhile and can still recall those feelings of freedom mixed with feelings of stress and crushing on boys. Music has the ability to return you to a time and a place, and it's the same with the tunes that carry you through hours in the air or on the road. It's the reason John Coltrane's "In a Sentimental Mood" takes me to London Heathrow, where I sat for hours in a plane on the tarmac, in a snowstorm, waiting to take off, only to deplane and book a flight the next morning. Which sounds kind of miserable, but it was actually one of the rare occasions I got to spend quality time with my brother, and for that reason, a pretty meaningful moment in time.
3. Photos. Obviously. I don't need to elaborate much here. Except to say that in some ways, I think digital photography has made this area easier but also more complicated. We can take waaaaay more photos with our digital cameras, and we know instantly whether they turned out, but on the other side of that, I wonder if we lose meaning in having so many to sort through later. I'm always struck at landmarks when I look around at everyone taking pretty much the same photo, and I start to realize how much we're experiencing all this glorious stuff in front of us through such tiny screens (except for those nerds who take photos with their tablets. wow.). These photos prove we're there, of course, and who can't resist snapping our very own shot of it? But still I try to challenge myself to find other ways of documenting my experience. Though the end results may be boring to everyone else, it's something special for me.
As an example, during my last trip to Rome, I found it more fun to document the hundreds of people trying to nail that perfect nighttime Trevi Fountain shot than trying to do so myself.
4. Personal epiphanies. I feel like the movie Paris, Je T'aime is always on when we're flipping channels. It is filmed as a series of vignettes by different directors, each a tribute to a different arrondessement in Paris. I've seen it just once in its entirety. Since then, though, I've watched this particular vignette multiple times. Upon first viewing, I laughed as soon as the woman began to speak. Her American accent was a stark change from the graceful, sophisticated French we'd heard in all the other scenes. She's Carol, from Denver, and she is reading a report she wrote for her French class about her trip to Paris. As the scene unfolds with her walking around with her fanny pack, you feel her loneliness and even her disappointment in Paris. It is the perfect illustration how travel can be a let-down after romanticizing it for so long (there is such a thing as Paris Syndrome, I've since learned). And also of how what we tell others when we return are often rosier versions of what we actually experienced. But what I love most about this scene is the beautiful, intangible moment she describes at the end of her report. Having been a solo traveler before, and as someone whose love of Paris has gone through a similar awakening, this final scene gives me a lump in my throat each time I watch it. While good food and beautiful views and historical landmarks will likely be catalysts to push you to get out into the world, if that's all you get out of travel, you're missing the point. If you have 6 minutes, take a look. I need not say more. (Watch it here if you don't see the video below.)
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