It’s amazing what can happen in a short amount of time on the road. In the past four weeks, we’ve been to six different states/provinces and nineteen cities, worked on two berry farms, borrowed three dogs, met over twenty new people from eight different countries, stayed at seven campsites and six hostels, acquired hundreds of mosquito bites, driven over three thousand miles, eaten about a dozen breakfast wraps, devoured cinnamon rolls at two locations of the same cult, encountered brand new animals, woken up with chickens, found ourselves in a desert, rainforest, prairie, mountain and island, spent a freezing night in the car, received condescending inquiries about our ages, had about a hundred cups of coffee, and achieved a new level of tan we never thought our Scandinavian skin could reach.
We didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into with this trip, and still don’t. Every day is something different and it is exciting and adventurous. We never know who we’re going to meet or where they’ll be from. We don’t know where we’re going to stop, what we’re going to eat, what we’re going to see, what we’re going to argue about, or what situations we’re going to run into.
Curious about how we were traveling?
In the past year before this trip, my life has been a bit monotonous. I traveled to some interesting places, visited my friends, and met some great people, but day to day life was pretty much the same: go to work, pet my pets, go for a walk, make some yummy food, listen to podcasts, read informative articles, talk to my family, and the like. Not bad, not necessarily boring, just not unexpected or unknown in any way. I assumed this trip would bring enough surprises and unknowns to make up for any lack I’d had, and I’m happy to report that was 100% true.
From the very beginning, this trip has upset our lives in a great way. Our first night, we stared at each other and wondered what the heck we were doing in a random trailer on a farm we’d never been to, in a town we’d never heard of, at the mercy of two people we’d never met. And we’ve wondered every day since, though the circumstances are constantly changing. We don’t know what we’re doing. It’s a strange feeling having no real agenda, obligations or responsibilities. It’s weird being able to choose where we go and what we really don’t care to see, even though it’s “the thing” to do. “I don’t want to” is a valid enough reason for us not to do something and there’s no one to whom we need to justify our actions. It’s a liberating and strange feeling.
But it’s also been tiring. It’s tiring constantly being in someone else’s domain, or driving for hours at a time, or staying at a different site every night – setting up the tent and taking it down – being with the same (lovely) (Heck yeah, I’m lovely -Claire) person 24/7, not eating how we’d like for days at a time on the road.
New things have become luxuries few and far between:
- sleeping with an actual pillow instead of a rolled-up blanket
- a bathroom with a lock and running water that doesn’t require a purchase or isn’t shared with 20 other people
- any form of a shower
- cellphone reception and wifi
- not thinking about money
- a place to sit without bugs, wind, changing temperatures, or other people
- a furry animal to pet
- a fresh and meaningful conversation with another person
- people who treat you like family whether or not you really are
If this all seems gloomier than expected, please don’t think we’re disappointed or unenthused with the idea of our trip. We knew going in that there would be many times when we weren’t thrilled with the situation. Most of these have come from times when we weren’t around other people. It’s highlighted, in a very clear way, the things that are important to me. Traveling and seeing new places is one of my favorite things, but it loses a lot of its appeal when there aren’t other people to share and interpret it with.
In Pride and Prejudice (yes, I’m quoting P&P), Elizabeth Bennet asks, “What are men, compared to rocks and mountains?” I just gotta say, she’s freaking wrong, man! What are rocks and mountains, compared to people? They’re pretty, majestic, and breathtaking. But they’re not dynamic like a person is. Who grew up in a different state, or a different country; Whose first language isn’t your own; Who has an outside view of the politics going on in your country; Who went through a different sort of school system; Who jokes and gets excited about similar things; Who will discover new places with you; Who thinks cold pizza for breakfast is sacrilege; Who is fascinated by gallon jugs of milk or frozen waffles; Who will sing Aerosmith at the top of their lungs with you in the car on a never-ending straight road as the sun goes down and the stars come out.
It’s people. People who animate otherwise dull situations. People who make you think differently about something. People who make you love a city. People who put meaning to songs. People who you remember. People who put the life in travel. And it’s travel that provides a space for this all to occur. For unknown places to be explored, for new foods to be tried, for new thoughts to be pondered, for relationships and connections to form between people who otherwise never would have crossed paths.
The interplay between the two creates the strongest motivation. There’s always hope and possibility for tomorrow. I feel like a poet.
……
Okay.
Well, this was supposed to be an overview of our trip so far, but I guess this sentimental and theoretical mess is what happens when trying to process a month of non-stop new experiences.
If you’re still reading this long essay of fragmented thoughts, thank you. If I could bake you a very chewy, pizza-sized cookie, I would.
Watch for posts on our actual travel experiences soon: the farms we’ve stayed at and our trek across southern Canada. We’ve got stories, yo!
~Leah
***After reading this, Claire informed me she completely disagrees with everything I said about people, and she prefers being alone……haha. So, stay tuned for Claire’s reflections so far. They’re bound to be interesting.***
