| Feb. 25th, 2007 @ 03:59 pm the terrors of travel |
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I didn't have to look at the clock to know it was late. Later than I should have been up. Late enough to wreak havoc on the carefully planned day that was now rapidly approaching. I looked anyway. Three AM and there I was, lying in bed, unable to sleep while my mind beat itself up for being so foolish. As sounds from the street below filtered in through a poorly designed window (echoes of the night winding down or the day stirring up?) I found myself tormented by questions: "what was I thinking?" "what am I doing here" and finally a statement, said with shaken confidence, "I am going to die."
Last week when I was talking to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) oh_snap she mentioned her admiration for my ability to travel by myself as she professed that she could never do that (coming from someone who had just moved to NYC alone I had my doubts). I smiled and I nodded and I begged off the implicit question with a wave of the hand and a whispered "it's nothing...". I have heard similar statements from other people over the years and what none of them realize, and what I hate to admit to myself, is that I am absolutely terrified of travel.
The hours spent in my house before I departed for the airport I was unable to eat. The nervousness had overwhelmed me and my stomach attempted to remind me that I was being quite foolish. A stomach is, sometimes, an easy thing to ignore so packing continued and I made my way to the airport. For awhile I was OK. There was nothing strange here, nothing new. JFK looks like any other airport built in an area deprived of space and based off of these common features I drew some comfort. I settled into a chair, just the same as any airport chair all over the world, and read my book. I even ventured into a nearby McDonalds to get some food. I didn't finish it.
It's so easy, in the aftermath of a trip, to focus on the good things. This is, in part, made easier because of the pictures. I tend not to take pictures of misery inducing events. There's no chance to take a photo of yourself getting ripped off or your frantic look when you realize that you are entirely lost. I can't take a picture of a memory just as I can't capture fear in a roll of film. So as the weeks, months, years go by my memory becomes more and more bolstered by the pictures. They become the markers of the trip: weeks of travel boiled down into frozen images of happy moments. Thinking back to past trips in this manner there is no fear. There is only confidence and joy, the handmaidens to further adventures. Fear before a trip is often ignored or corralled to a small parcel of the mind not visited on a normal day.
Barcelona moved like a blur and I didn't have time to suffer any travel induced fear. I was all business, having a limited amount of time and a large list of things to see. There was no time for fear, no time to dwell, no time to wonder. The fact that Spain offered many experiences similar to NY made it easier. It's hard to be afraid when you have the soothing voice of Shakira, heard from an airport bus radio, reminding you that her hips, unlike the Egyptian merchants, don't lie (an experience made even more transcendental hearing it in a Spanish speaking country) or you pass a Dunkin Donuts that looks strangely like the one near your house.
But the fear is there, lingering, sulking, waiting for a moment of shaken confidence for it to rear up and remind you of it's prescence. At these moments it's overpowering. There is nothing else in the world: just you and the fear in your mind. It's hard to talk yourself out of this as your mind rationalizes away your rationalizations. Reminding myself that I experienced the EXACT same thoughts a few years ago when I drove cross country is not soothing. Rather it just excites the fear within me as I note, with a trembling mind, all the ways it DOESN'T compare.
Spending time in the Barcelona airport, hours before my flight to Cairo, I was fine. There was no fear, no acknowledgement of reality. There was simply a veneer of positive thinking: I was the conquering hero, preparing to slay all my childhood dreams. Hero's don't have fear. This tide of good feelings carried me half way through the flight before I became confronted with the enormity of the situation. I was about to land in a country I had never been to before. I knew no one. No one there cared one whit about me. I spoke none of the language and I recognized none of the culture. Shit.
I am sure I strode off of the plane proud and upright, with an urgency that could easily be mistaken by an onlooker. I had to keep moving. So I found my way through the empty airport, walked through customs (having just purchased my visa) and collected my luggage. Leaving the airport I pressed forward through the crowd of taxi drivers all competeing for the same tourists and located the man holding a sign with my name on it. With a sigh of relief I thrust my hand into his and we made our way to his car. A short while later I checked into my hotel, entered my room and proceeded to decide that I was going to die.
Of course I didn't die. Soon after such pronouncement I reminded myself that tourists have been travelling to Egypt for centuries and most of them don't die. Amused by the absurd lengths that I was allowing the fearful portion of my mind to take me I finally realized how silly I was being. Moments later I fell asleep and awoke the next day feeling better. I was still terrified. The thought of walking around the streets of Cairo still caused quite a stir in my mind. But I did it anyway. Eventually it got easier as the unknown became known and I drew strength from little things like crossing the street w/o getting hit by a car or taking the same route to the train station twice.
Anything worth pursuing in life has a measure of fear attached to it. If there is a way around this than you are either cheating or not experiencing something new. I realize this is natural. THis is also incredibly healthy. For the unspoken benefit of travel, beyond (in fact even more important than) seeing the "sights", is confidence. Confidence in yourself, confidence in the world. We don't get to slay our dreams without this.
Solo travel terrifies me and I think anyone that claims for themself otherwise is mistaking that ill feeling in their gut for machismo. I hope it always does. It's part of the reason I do it and the main reason I will continue to do it. It's the price for every picture you take and every memory you relish. |
