Eight Months On the Road - a Round the World (RTW) Trip Update
Month EIGHT in Numbers
This month was more about rest and recuperation than exploration as I backtracked, took a cruise across the Atlantic, and spent the holidays with my family. You’ll see that all my counts are much lower as a result:
Cities This Month: 11; Total So Far: 98
Countries This Month: 5; Total So Far: 34
Countries I Ate Avocado Toast In This Month: 1; Total So Far: 30
Miles Walked This Month: 150.1; Total So Far: 2,608.3
A MONTH OF EMBRACING THE NONSELF
Like each of these summaries, I’m going to begin with my emotional journey and then talk about the trip itself. This trip is, after all, more about discovering myself and my place in the world than it is about seeing the world.
December was dramatically impacted by getting ill on my cruise back to the United States. Not only was I out of commission for about a week on the ship, but the long tail of whatever I caught has left me with brain fog and fatigue even now more than a month later. It’s the primary reason that this update is so delayed (and probably less well written than my normal).
I’ve been operating so far below full capacity that it’s forced me to live much more in the moment that is normal for me - a state I’ve embraced simply because I haven’t had the energy or mental faculties to get lost thinking about the future (or the past). Even though feeling unwell has often sucked, it’s also been unexpectedly helpful in navigating an issue that’s been sticky for me.
For quite some time now, I’ve been trying to integrate all the pieces of myself that I’ve come to know - things like the manic, creative energy that comes out of me in a project, the calm, coolness of me in a meditation, the fiery anger that comes out in moments of unfairness, and the maternal empathy that exudes when I see someone in pain. I’ve been struggling to embrace some holistic version of me that brings together all these parts that, in some ways, seem to contradict. Or, perhaps, I’ve been envisioning them as aspects of self I should be able to draw out at will.
Getting sick has forced me to see that the whole effort of integration has been futile - at least in the way that I was envisioning it. Instead, it has allowed me to step back and embrace in a felt way one of the core tenants of Buddhism, nonself: the idea that there is no permanent version of ourselves and that we, like all things, change moment to moment.
Being more in the moment, I’ve seen all the aspects of myself that I’ve come to know come out when appropriate - in response to my environment. I’ve seen my manic fire when I’m excited, I’ve seen my calm in the midst of nature watching, and I’ve seen my fire when confronting suboptimal treatment. Being sick has forced me to have a new sense of self - that whoever I am in the moment is just a combination of my inner and external states - balanced by the skill sets I’ve learned, my values, and my nature. I’ve learned that forcing out a different version of self than what is arising naturally is just a form of inauthenticity.
This month has, I think, ended my fruitless search for a version of me that embraces all these pieces of self at once - replacing it with a peace that I don’t need to be any specific version of me at any point. An equanimity that I don’t need to always be part of a coherent whole - that me in one moment doesn’t have to look and feel like me in the next. My forced in the moment living has allowed me to embrace seeing my self as one more thing that arises naturally in the moment - and to see that my work on inner mindfulness enables me to understand and embody whatever is stirring in me as it happens.
I’ve learned that I am not calm, fiery, dramatic, angry, or lovely (at least all at once) - and that I don’t need to be able to pull out and access any of these personas at will. I’ve begun to see these simplistic descriptives as reductive - and to learn that what can arise in me is often outside the bounds of how I may have defined myself prior. I’ve been learning that I am who I am in the moment - and that whatever self that is arising naturally is worthy of embracing.
This is, of course, not to say that unpleasant or extreme sensations in me should be embraced without remedy, boundary, or accountability. I’ve come to see that honoring self as it arises requires a lot of in-the-moment self-care - a duty of inner responsiveness that goes well beyond prophylactic maintaining of wellness.
In practice, this means that just because I sense a rage-filled Devin arising doesn’t mean I must let it wreak havoc on whoever comes into contact with me - but instead that I must honor what is arising. When I’ve come to face to face with versions of myself that are so fiery they could do damage, I have tried to apply mindfulness and emotional regulation to bring them into focus before letting them exert themselves on the world. While I’ve come to see that all naturally arising versions of my self must be honored and embraced, I have equally come to see that all versions of my self require mindfulness and care before they take action in the world so that they remain consistent with my core values and character. All aspects of myself can manifest as harm without attention.
Perhaps in the most immediate sense, I can sense this manifesting in me not needing to always maintain an affable, friendly demeanor. I’ve begun to smile only when it’s genuine, which is still a lot, and to be placid when that’s sincere. I no longer feel compelled to wrap myself in friendly dressing. Whatever arises arises, and that includes some level of vulnerability in displaying where I’m at with authenticity.
As for where I’m going in January, I spent my first week in Philadelphia catching up with friends and then a enjoyed a long weekend in New York City where I caught a flight to Marrakesh (and behaved like I was a full decade younger). I’m currently at the tail end of exploring Morrocco for 9 days. After this, I spend a week in Egypt and then end the month in New Delhi, India. I expect this month’s travel to be pretty quick paced because my stays in both Morocco and Egypt are non-optimally short for everything I want to see - so I’m hoping to make the most out of the time that I do have. I’m also expecting to be wildly overstimulated and overwhelmed by the combination of Morocco, Egypt, and India. As I’m experiencing it now, I’m beginning to see that this current agenda may be unkind to my nervous system.
But maybe that’s meant to be - and my growth curve in the next two months will be around chaos, noise, and regulating my nervous system.
A Month OF Returning to Known Territory
For me, December was a month of rest and relaxation. I backtracked to places I’ve already been, took a cruise ship home, and spent Christmas with my family. Where I have a city summary linked below, I’ve used my regular marking schema. I put asterisks next to the ones I will likely find reason to return to, exclamation marks next to the ones I got my fill of but found thoroughly charming and worth the trip, and left the cities that were a bit less remarkable to me without anything.
First, I returned to Brussels* - an enigmatic city that charmed me in June. This time, I spent five days with a love interest enjoying the warmth and touch of a known, affectionate presence - allowing me to recover some from the constant non-familiarity of life on the road. While we did explore the Christmas spirit of Brussels - including its markets and light shows -this week was about relaxing in a cozy bed, being held, and enjoying the absence of activity.
Then, I went back to Barcelona* to catch my cruise. A year and a half ago, Barcelona is where I ended an engagement - so the city is emotionally charged for me. When I returned in May, my visit was primarily about reclaiming the space and processing the emotions that had frozen in me. This time around, I focused on shedding the energetic attachment of the breakup and just experiencing Barcelona through fresh eyes. To some extent, it worked … but I think it might need more time.
On the cruise, I visited Cartagena (Spain) for my first time. To me, it was really nothing special - a pleasant port stop with some modernist architecture and an average Roman theater.
I found Malaga! to be a brilliant mix of Andalusian culture, including its Islamic (Moorish) roots, with the lavishness and beauty of a beach resort town. I totally get why so many tourists do longer trips with their friend groups here.
One of my tenants in Philadelphia is from outside of Seville and recommended Cadiz! to me as one of his favorite cities. I can see why. It has all the charm of the narrow streets and bountiful plazas of Seville without the noise and chaos of a large city. Plus, it’s coastal - and has some of Europe’s cleanest and most charming urban beaches.
It was a real delight to end my time in continental Europe where I started - Lisbon*. While it was pouring almost my entire day there, I stepped out for the dry hour to explore some of the Old Town. For me, the walk was a wave of nostalgia - of reflecting on how far I’ve gone and how much I’ve grown since I left. It was a beautiful, full circle ending to the first half of my trip.
My cruise was re-routed out of the Azores and into Funchal!, Madeira - so I arrived to this island city having done no research. It combines the atmospheric charm of a historic Portuguese city with the delights of island life - making it a wonderful place to explore and get lost.
I spent eight days at sea to cross the Atlantic - an experience that I had been looking forward to for months. While the trip was tainted because I got very ill, the time looking out to the ocean and relaxing in a private room was almost as rejuvenating and peaceful as I had hoped. It’s a lovely way to make a long-haul journey, offering a slow transition across time zones and time to rest and introspect at the beginning or end of a long trip. Crossing continents by sea is definitely an experience I hope to have again.
When I got back to the US, I flew down to North Carolina to spend Christmas with my family. I always find returning home to be a remarkable exploration of the ways we ourselves have changed. This time around, maybe for my first time ever, I arrived home without expectations or hopes for how my family would engage with me. This new openness allowed me to view my family through fresh eyes - and to have a new appreciation for how hard the members of my family try (and usually fail) to express love for one another. Most members of my family are in an endless loop of subserviating themselves to everyone around them in a way that lacks understanding for what others actually want or need. It’s an endless cycle of giving in ways the receiver will either not notice, not want, or actively be bothered by - leaving the giver feeling unappreciated and unseen, and the receiver un-understood and unloved. Even though I do believe love without understanding the other can never truly manifest as felt love, I do believe seeing the spent efforts of trying to love by those around you allows for a greater depth of love, appreciation and empathy. Maybe no one in my family will ever actually understand me - but they each yearn to love me and try in their own way to manifest that. It left me with fresh hope for new beginnings and healthier dynamics. I left feeling like my period of wishing for a different childhood has passed and the path has been cleared to focus on healthy dynamics moving forward.
December for me ended with a New Year’s Eve party at my house in Philadelphia. While I’m so grateful for this journey that I’ve been on and I think it’s been spiritually everything that I needed, spending time with my chosen family and celebrating a new beginning reminded me that the core delight of human life is sharing it with loved ones and experiencing this world together.
Having spent half of December ill with a long tail of brain fog and fatigue, I’ve spent a lot of time finding grace when my body doesn’t have the energy or capacity to do more. Life on the road is full of things to do - places to see, people to meet, food to eat - a surplus that can be hard to reign in even when energetic and ready to roll. This month (and as I write this, continuing well into January), I have consistently had to find kindness for myself in sitting down and doing nothing when my brain is racing with ideas of what I should get up to. Often harder, I’ve had to find peace when I fall behind on this blog, have failed to plan, or have made mistakes - things that are unavoidable when operating well below capacity.
This need to force time for me to rest and relax has left me reflecting on how often we rank the quality of experiences in an absolute way. Seeing a world wonder can be seen as inherently more valuable than watching a bird, reading a book better than watching a TV show, or working on a project more worthy than resting in nothingness. Having had to spend much more time resting and relaxing, I’ve been reminded that all of life is just as rich and rewarding if you can approach it with an open mind and mindful presence. It’s forced a careful reflection and embracing that wherever I am, whatever I’m capable of doing, is just fine for the moment; that I should always just embrace the possible of the moment. I’ve seen this cause a shift in how I travel already - a shedding of the should dos of any city and an embracing of whatever random experience is budding in front of me.
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LIFE ON the ROAD continues to be A LEARNING PROCESS
I usually use this section to expand on mental stirrings that have felt impactful throughout the month. Given my reduced mental faculties, I’ve been a bit less esoteric this month - and my grand reflections have been much thinner. Maybe that’s for the better, though, as I’ve been much better at paying attention to what’s in front of me and being present in the moment. But I’m still me, and sometimes my mind moves to the big questions. Here’s what’s been on my mind:
I wrote extensively last month about abandoning my Christian faith - and the unexpected hollowing out that it caused. One area that I’ve felt this manifest in December is finding some level of grace with the existence of evil in the world. I didn’t realize that I had some level of spiritual bypassing when it came to violence - a belief that it’s put on this earth to learn and grow from in the constant fight of good versus evil. When that belief in a greater purpose vanished, I was left looking squarely at the existence of evil, having no inner peace for its existence.
The result was that I began to look more squarely, more rationally, at the face of evil. I think my form of spiritual bypassing allowed me to skip this for my entire life by leaning on Pollyanna beliefs in the good of all people, that everyone should have an opportunity to be redeemed, or that everything has a purpose. Looking at it frightened me - left me uneasy.
Naturally, I began looking for explanation - resorting to science and evolution at first for explanation. Are sociopaths and severe personality disorders there to help make hard decisions, to lead the charge in war, to enforce boundaries, to thin the population when it’s too large? Does their presence help strengthen communities by priming them for tough, pragmatic decisions? Once I looked at evil without a spiritual underpinning, I immediately begin looking for a why.
The result of all of this is that I’ve been wondering if I can reach any level of grace, equanimity or peace when it comes to what I see as evil without spirituality. (And inclusive in spirituality, I include certain kinds of science, particularly evolutionary theories on why things might be adaptive.) If spirituality is necessary for mental wellness when looking at the causes of suffering.
Of course, the alternative is I’ve been wondering if I’m not supposed to reach a level of grace or peace with evil - but instead find a place of equanimity that requires I fight tooth and nail against it in all ways within my power - and to surrender control when I can’t impact it. Maybe equanimity only comes in the fight, and the surrender when it’s outside of our control.
I’ve been surprised how different the task of finding inner peace is between looking at those who are suffering and looking at those who are intentionally (or recklessly) causing suffering. I’ve reached a level of equanimity with the former for quite a while - but I feel like I’m barely beginning the process of attaining some kind of peace on the latter. And the former doesn’t appear to be guiding my journey on the latter - as if they are actually entire separate tracks of growth.
Something floating against all of this is a constant wonder if we aren’t biologically made to process a society at our current scale - where we read about human rights violations against millions half a world away. Maybe we’re only designed to successfully think about these things at the scale of our village - and all else is noise that will inevitably break our wiring. Maybe it was never helpful for us so sociologically evolve past the stage of village living.
In the processing of all of this, I’ve been reflecting on how painful it is to get past a fantasy or a delusion - in this case my facade of Christianity. The mourning of a life we’ve dreamed of, yearned for, or wish for can be one of the most painful processes of human existence. It’s often the worst part of moving past a break up (not mourning the reality of the relationship but the delusion of what it could have been) and of resolving family trauma (to stop wishing for a different, better childhood). And yet, moving past fantasy and delusion is also one of the most powerful axis for human growth. I don’t know what this shedding of delusion will bring me, but I expect it will be powerful.
These kinds of questions have actually left me feeling more grounded in the reality of life as it presents itself - and less willing to take any pithy black-white statement on absolute truths. Increasingly, I see nothing as clear in life - and, consequently, all doors being open.
I’m STILL under budget
If you’re wondering how much this is costing me - so far, for eight months in Europe, the Middle East, crossing the Atlantic and spending Christmas at home, I’ve spent $15,824. I wrote about my budget here and this spend is about $500 below target. To be honest, I wish I had more of a cushion starting the second half of my journey. I think my first four months of 2023 will stretch my budget again because of trips to the US, New Zealand and Japan - in addition to more expensive flights through that period. I expect that by the end of April I will be well above budget - perhaps as bad as $2,000 over budget. I’m just hoping that I’ll be able to reign it back in while traveling through Southeast Asia and, if I can’t, I’ll either free up more money or cut my trip short.
What I’ve been thinking about this month is how destructive anxiety about money can be. I’ve found myself often worried about my budget heading into 2023 - fretting that I will be over at the end of my journey. While knowing my budget and being mindful about my spending are helpful activities, I find that stressing about it consistently takes me away from mindful presence and reduces the quality of my experience. I’ve been trying to strike a middle ground right now about letting myself be reasonably over budget - making the parts of the trip that I expect to be well over budget as cheap as I can without cheapening the experience. I’ve been working on some level of grace and equanimity that it will work itself out in the end, even if I can’t see clearly know how.
It can all be particularly silly because my budget of $30,000 is slightly arbitrary as I could take more out of savings (and because my parents gifted me $2,000 for Christmas because they wanted to support this journey) - so my extreme attachment to my original goal is unreasonable. There is no hard boundary enforcing this spend cap. But this month, I’ve begun to see that I may not succeed at staying within budget given my goals for 2023 - and I think there’s been some disappointment, self-loathing and grief attached to that potential failure. But, at the end of the day, the choice to spend time with my niece in New Zealand is what is threatening my budget - and that quality time with her is well worth overextending my budget. Sometimes, you just say yes because your soul says it’s the only option - and you figure out the logistics later.
The First Pack Went Well for Europe
At the beginning of this trip, I published my packing list and wrote about why I included everything; in my month one summary, I gave a pretty detailed breakdown about what I missed, what seems like it was unnecessary, and what has been surprisingly helpful. The trends I noticed after month one have hardly changed - though the warmer weather clothes have gotten more use.
While the first pack held up well for Europe, I’ve decided to say so long to the roller bag suitcase pack. Part of why I packed more was to reduce expenses in Europe - by bringing things like a towel, a way to wash clothes, and a larger stock of toiletries. Part of the pack was on luxuries - things like accessories, style pieces, a Switch (that I used once) and exercise equipment; I decided around six months in that these luxuries weren’t worth the long term loss on nimble movement. In addition, I realized once I was in Albania that my choice of a roller bag greatly overestimated the availability of smooth sidewalks in the developing world - a mistake that would’ve hurt me as I begin the North Africa and Asia leg of my trip.
As I start my trip through less expensive parts of the world, I’ve redone my packing. I switched to one backpack that can fit in an airplane overhead. It has one weeks’ worth of clothes (7 underwear, 6 socks 7 t-shirts, 2 shorts, 1 jeans), including some options for colder weather (1 thermal long sleeve, 1 rain coat, 1 puffer jacket), two pairs of sneakers, flip flops, one workout outfit, one swimsuit, my iPad, my Kindle, chargers, a dirty laundry bag, a few K95 masks, and a bag of toiletries (including an electric body groomer and a supply of inhalers). I decided to not pack a towel - and to take on the minor expense of renting them at hostels when they aren’t provided. I’ve also decided to take on the minor expense of paying for laundry as I go. I’ve kept some things for work outs but limited it, recognizing that I won’t work out as much as I was originally.
With this new pack, it’s easier for me to walk where there aren’t many sidewalks, to move quickly, and to explore with my luggage when necessary. A little over a week in, I can tell it’s going to be a large adjustment - but once I get used to it, I know the added freedom will be well worth it.
At some point when my energy stores are back up, I’ll post a bag 2.0 blog about more minimalist packing.
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