Anyone who knows me well will know how important my previous travels were to me.
I went away alone around the world at 18, and had the time of my life.
I had some real low moments too. I got lost in Mumbai day one, in a time before smart phones gave you constant access to a map. I lost all my possessions day two before managing to chase them down again in a bus across the Goa. I got beaten by a bouncer in Bangkok, threw myself off scooters that I probably shouldn’t have been riding and completely lost my cool with hassling touts that were certainly poorer than I could ever imagine.
I made the most tortured, grimace-inducing attempts to chat up girls 6 years older than me. I nearly drowned at least twice, spent way too much time dangerously ill or hung-over and lost 11kg to officially reach the ‘underweight’ classification on the BMI scale.
But amidst all that chaos, there were these much longer stretches of complete euphoria. I would sit silently watching the world go by from a train and be overcome by giddy joy. I made friendships in the space of days that meant more to me than those I had maintained for years. I was drunk on this strange energy throughout. I felt like I was at the crowning movie-montage moment of my own coming of age drama.
I came back a better person too. I listened to people more and I was less insular. It allowed me to greet university life with a vigour and energy I wouldn’t have been able to do otherwise.
I owe much of that to the people I met along the way.
I naturally wasn’t perfect and still had a hell lot of growing up to do once I returned, but there is a big part of me that yearns for the person I became on that trip.Far less weighed down and pensive than the figure I rescind into on British shores. I was only able to keep that energy bottled up and with me for so long.
I’m now setting off again, admittedly, in search of those euphoric moments and there’s the obvious fear it won’t be what I dream it to be. That I will be lonely. That everywhere I go smartphones will be instagramming away the special moments. That paradise won’t be where I left it.
That’s a fear worth facing head on though as in London these past 3 years, it’s often felt like my soul has been anesthetised. Working a corporate job in London means that the ills of capitalism accost you at every turn. There’s this ongoing, self-induced pressure to meet socially acceptable benchmarks of success. Conversations too readily turn towards money or flashy, vacuous self-promoting anecdotes. Socialising is commodified into fickle brunch engagements and fuel for our respective social media addictions. I want to find an escape from this.
Aside from any London specific gripe, there are already many well documented accounts of the issues with modern western life put in far more detailed and succinct ways than I can muster here.
The strain on mental health from all this has been a particular ongoing concern of mine though, and a few lines that really struck a chord with me recently were from the psychiatrist Iain McGilchrist, who regularly tells patients:
It’s not that there’s pathology in you. It’s that there’s pathology in the workplace, in the corporation for which you work and perhaps in the society to which you belong. And so I don’t want you to approximate yourself more and more to what is demanded of you because it is inhuman. It is dehumanizing – and no wonder you’re feeling a bit depressed.
If this is true then it seems best if the pathology’s examination and treatment takes place from outside my normal life. It would be counterproductive to work on its removal if I’m to continue breathing it in with every breath.
Now, I am also acutely aware of the selfishness of this whole endeavour, and the privilege that underpins my ability to realise such ambitious travel plans. I am doubling down on first world complaints right as I’m on the verge of entering the third. My only answer to such charges, which probably only half satisfies, is that I’m hoping that all this will make me more empathetic again. That I’ll eventually be able to help others more by being better in myself.
Hopefully I’ll find what I’m looking for over this next year. For now though, England, it’s goodbye.
Song of the Post
I'll aim to follow each of my posts with an associated song. It might be something which fits my current writing or perhaps it's simply something nice I've heard recently.
4 comments
Love the write up Tom !
Cheers to you and your self realisation!
May you travel across oceans far and wide leave your footprints in sands of time 🙂
As they have always said, impact that matters
Thanks Neha! Hopefully some footprints in India too if they unsuspend their tourist visas soon 🤗
Hi Tom, don’t know if you remember me but I stumbled upon your blog and must say I really like to read it. Very recognizable and many similarities with my own life over the years. I look forward to reading more stories. Greetings from Belgium.
Hey Nick – Merry Christmas! Of course I remember you from the Bridge Hostel in Tbilisi – thanks for taking the time out to read my blog 🙂
I’m trying to upload a lot more over the Christmas break to write more about the places I’ve been thus far as I’m not great at keeping it up to date, but I enjoy playing around with the site all the same.