Nine Months On the Road - a Round the World (RTW) Trip Update
Month NINE in Numbers
I restarted my journey this month with quick trips to Morocco and Egypt - before landing in New Delhi for three weeks in India. My stays in both countries were shorter than ideal - so I moved fast to hit everything I wanted to. While my counts won’t fully show that pace - they do in the context of only having been on the road for 2/3 of January:
Cities This Month: 12; Total So Far: 109
Countries This Month: 4; Total So Far: 37
Countries I Ate Avocado Toast In This Month: 2; Total So Far: 32
Miles Walked This Month: 226.7; Total So Far: 2,835.0
A RETURN TO THE TRAVEL JOURNEY
I’ve decided to flip my regular email style moving forward - and start with what I’ve been up to. At this point, my travel experiences and growth journey feel so intertwined that I don’t think it makes sense to separate them anymore. I’ve also decided to switch to a story-telling format instead of city summaries, which may make this much longer. I’m hoping that the storytelling also makes it a more fun read, though. I actually wish I had been in this format the whole time - but I think it took me this long to internalize that my stories could be just as exciting for a reader as the incredible sites I was experiencing.
After a month of backtracking and relaxation, I started my travels again in January. I had such a nice, intimate, rewarding time at home that getting on the road was tough; unlike in May, I didn’t feel ready to leave - and the minute travel started I missed the comfort and security of home. Within my summaries of where I’ve been below, I’ve used my regular marking schema. I put asterisks next to the cities 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.
I started the new year in Philadelphia - spending every day with my best friends. I laughed relentlessly, cried, and just did ordinary things that bring me a great sense of security, like grocery shopping at a store I know or making a morning espresso. I was able to see that all of my growth was able to persist in an old context - and only made my chosen family feel more intimate, more sincere. It was even able to persist in a batshit crazy 2 day romance that would normally have wrapped me up - but I was able to use to role play emotionally mature reactions to the kinds of banter that normally addict me. Philadelphia felt like home- but without the trappings of old behavior and patterns that used to weigh heavy. It felt like a familiar place with a fresh start.
After Philadelphia, my travels started with a weekend gays trip to New York City with my past gal pals. For the first time, I really saw the appeal of New York - the long walks through an ever changing city, the ambitious dreams of everyone around me, and the sense that anything was possible. I was able to access a carefree version of myself that I thought I may have lost - someone who was willing to behave like a 19 year old but without the trappings of immaturity or a need to participate to be cool. Someone who felt comfortable trusting that they knew when to take risks, when to let loose, and when to pull back. It was a reminder to not take myself too seriously - and that relentless, carefree joy is one of the best gifts of a human life.
From New York, I flew to Marrakesh. Having sacrificed sleep for fun the week prior and still recovering from my brain fog, my body was not ready for Morocco. Marrakesh! was a flood for my senses - constant noise, movements, scents, and vendors trying to pull you into their store. My hostel was a beautiful piece of shit with terrible beds and endless noise, and I found myself struggling to settle into it all with grace - but instead bumbled through the city with some combination of grumpiness and pure exhaustion. But even in that state - I could see the appeal of Marrakesh. It feels otherworldly - maze like alleys bustling with animals and motorbikes, surrounded on both sides by a sprawling market.
At my hostel in Marrakesh, I had been told you could take a Sahara tour! out of the city that would drop you off in Fez - which would be a perfect combination of exploration and transit for my time in Morrocco. So, in my sleep deprived state, I went into a tour office and booked whatever version of that tour they were selling; without really processing the details, I texted my friends that I was hopping into a van the next morning and wouldn’t have Wi-Fi for a few days, so if they didn’t hear from me by the time I should be in Fez, to worry. Fortunately, it mostly worked out. The tour stopped at stunning views of the Atlas Mountain, Canyon Dade, and a breathtaking example of a mud construction city: Ait Benhaddou. I visited a Berber (indigenous Morrocan) village and stayed with them in a Sahara desert camp. There, I watched the desert sunset with one of the Berber employees (Mustapha) and had a remarkable moment of gratitude; he told me that his only travels were to two other cities in Morocco - and something settled deep within me about how outrageously gifted I am to have this opportunity - to have been born in America, to a well-off family, to have had intelligence and drive for a successful career, and to have had the inspiration to take a big risk and put myself out there on a journey like this. Life settled in as a wild, unearned gift - a feeling that has stuck with me since. Only a few things felt a little off throughout the tour. The hotels were booked through the tour vendor, not the tour driver, so we were each dropped off in separate hotels and camps after spending the whole day together (sometimes alone). I accidentally booked four hours of camel riding - which I did not want - so that became four hours of walking through the dessert next to the camel, petting it and apologizing for propping up a tourist industry I don’t support. Overall, it was an incredible (and budget-friendly) experience that I’d wish on anyone - and a good reminder that it’s best to just trust that life tends to work out in the end.
The tour dropped me off in Fez! - a maze of an historic Medina that I never managed to get a handle on for walking directions. As soon as I got to my hostel, I bumped into another American checking in - a bro-y dude from Colorado I assumed would not be to my taste. I had to swallow my judgement when I found I adored him - a kind-hearted, funny dude with a knack for seeing the strange and beautiful in whatever was around him - and a deep appreciation for nature. We explored the city together - its magical souks, stunning Islamic architecture, and rooftop views - laughing and delighting the whole time. He had developed the kind of career I’m dreaming of - one where he works nine months and takes three months traveling - a reminder that it’s possible, even in America, and to never let the status quo of the system define your view of the possible.
I also had one of the strangest social experiences of my trip in Fez; a British couple from my Sahara tour invited me to dinner at their hotel. When I got there, they were visibly drunk (bordering wasted), and it became quickly clear that I had been invited as some sort of do-over child for each of them. The woman kept holding my hand and telling my I have a huge heart and that she hopes I find my great love; the man kept looking me in the eyes and telling me that I could change the world, and asking “what is the difference that makes the difference?” In the moment, it was clear they needed something from me - so I just took part in whatever they were hoping to get by inspiring me. But as the shock of the experience waned and the days moved on, I realized I got something I didn’t know I needed from them: expressed warmth and relentless belief in my worth and potential. My parents are lots of things - good and bad - but warm, openly affectionate, or inspiring are none of them; these kinds of mushy, overwrought expressions are well outside of their vocabulary. They’re relentlessly pragmatic - more set on making sure their children don’t fall into crushing failure than cheerleading their children to following their dreams or achieving wild success. If anything, they crushed the idea that I was fundamentally special and could achieve anything - and put in a belief that such wild dreaming was dangerous. I don’t think that until this exchange I knew how fundamentally unopen I was to receiving that kind of embrace - that when that kind of warmth came I would dismiss it as foolish, sloppy, and reckless. But, truthfully, I found myself open to their good wishes and faith, and found the strange embraces and belief in who I am to be something I deeply needed. I didn’t expect two drunk Brits from Sheffield would have opened me up to a new vulnerability - but I think they did. The grand irony of all of this, though, is that I’m that exact kind of relentless, dreaming cheerleader to everyone in my life: that exact person I’ve always resisted allowing deeply into my own. (The other irony I suspect is that these two Brits were probably just like my parents with their own children.)
From Fez, I took a train to Rabat! - the capital of Morrocco. After a week of bustle and vegetable tagine (which is mostly mushy carrots), Rabat was a needed break. It’s a remarkable blend of clean, modern city with the paired infrastructure - alongside tradition and history. The city has a souk (market) and charming historic district - but little of the noise and bustle of Fez or Morrocco. It has traditional Moroccan food - but also fast casual international fusion food - a welcome break from my mushy carrots. I was able to catch up on sleep, start catching up on the blog, and to rest my brain.
After Rabat, I took a train to Casablanca because I had a flight to Cairo. I found little of Casablanca charming or romantic - either a mass of dense suburb development like Boca Raton, or a den of deep urban slum poverty that was emotionally challenging to explore. One of those cities where bland wealth sits ten minutes from jarring poverty - and neither are able to express themselves through charm or character. Outside of one stunning modern Mosque, Casablanca was mostly a warning about the dangers of modern capitalism - and a reminder that I don’t always need to explore for the sake of exploring. That days off are always worthwhile, even when traveling.
The beginning of my Egypt trip was emotionally rough. I got into Cairo at night, exhausted and still in my brain fog - so I was in no way prepared for the chaos that is Egypt. At the airport, I knew there was a public bus into Cairo - but what I didn’t know was that the bus numbers are in Arabic numerals and no one at the station speaks English. I jumped into a random bus as it was pulling away hoping it was the right one and tracked myself on Google maps - which I was delighted to find out did in fact head to the train station. I had a vague plan to catch an overnight train to Aswan but I didn’t have a ticket yet (as their online booking system essentially never works). I did know there was a foreigner ticket office in the train station - but when I got there I wasn’t allowed in because I didn’t have a ticket; (deciding to put the office for foreigners to buy their tickets beyond a ticket checkpoint feels deeply peak Egypt). I tried to make my way to the local ticket office, only to find there were no lines and everyone just shoved their way to the front waving cash and speaking Arabic; I gave up fairly quickly. I eventually found a sleeper car ticket office (the more expensive train option) outside of the station, and bit the budget bullet and paid for a sleeper train. Once that was settled, the journey to find my platform (and to get onto the right train) felt no less simple, as the signage for what platform to go on and how to get to that platform is rough to non-existent - as is the signage for which train is which. Thankfully, after asking as many employees as I came across, I managed to get onto the right train - and found out my roommate for the night was a gay man from Britain. After eating my included dinner of white rice and fries with tahini and chatting with him for a few hours, it became clear to me that my roommate was going to make a move on me. Completely unwilling to close out my first night being dragged off the sleeper car by the morality police (and also, honestly, not attracted to this otherwise very friendly man), I abruptly said “I’m going to bed” and climbed to the upper bunk and lied down - curling into my blankets as an avoidant strategy to not have to deal with the situation at all. Eventually, sixteen hours or so later, my train got into Aswan. By this point, I did even have my train tickets for my next two trips as I stopped at the foreigner office before taking off - which was, delightfully, a very pleasant and helpful experience.
By time I got to Aswan!, I was convinced that at least one thing on my trip to Egypt would go seriously wrong. I had two days there - and my only goal for day one was to book a tour to Abu Simbel for the following day; a secondary goal for the city was to see Philae Temple. My luck seemed to turn around by time I got to the hostel and I was able to book a tour right away there - and one that would drop me off at Philae Temple on my way back. Feeling good, I went out and about to check out the unfinished obelisk - an abandoned obelisk at a granite quarry that shows how the massive towers were formed out of a single piece of stone. I quickly found out that I was not ready for Egypt; the city was polluted, loud, decrepit (with many buildings incomplete or falling apart) and crushingly poor. As an empath, something in the city dripped of despair for me - and I could persistently feel it seeping into my core. It took a long time for me to pinpoint why it hit me so hard because poverty has never hit me as acutely before (and I’ve spent a lot of my life around it). Eventually I realized it was because the country is in a long downward slide of living standards - and poverty that’s getting worse comes with despair and hopelessness, while poverty with improving living standards is often laced with gratitude and hope. At the same time, I found myself getting irritated because I couldn’t manage to get food without getting wildly hyped prices (I once paid $3 for a bag of chips) and the child beggars were relentless in the way they followed you around; note: you should never give to child beggars because you’re almost always enabling someone mistreating them as a way to gather money through emotional manipulation. By the end of the day, I was emotionally drained, grumpy, and feeling a bit despondent. But the universe answered my need, and in popped my Brit roommate Lewis; we started talking and processing the toughness of exploring the city, eventually shifting into also sharing funny stories, and eventually it all combined with a few drinks. It was a universe reminder that hard things sometimes require processing with a friend - and that everything is easier to digest when you’re also having fun. The next day, I didn’t do anything alone - and found myself absolutely marveled not only by both enormous temples - but that they had been moved from their original sites in Aswan after they were nearly lost due to flooding from the Aswan High Dam. With company, I managed to easily get food at reasonable (though still hiked) prices, emotionally process what was happening around, and begin to see past the sense of despair to see the local joy: the children playing, the restaurant owners excited and proud to feed someone non-local, and the friendliness of the local stray dogs. It was a reminder that when life feels overwhelming or gets too heavy to carry, it’ll almost always get better quickly if you don’t try to carry it alone.
I was getting used to Egypt by time I arrived in Luxor! I was able to find local, high quality reasonably priced food, had shored up my boundaries about what pain is mine and what isn’t, and got to the city knowing I still wasn’t ready to tackle any of it alone. Luxor is the epicenter of Ancient Egyptian heritage sites, and I spent my first two days exploring the big hitters: Karnak (the second largest religious complex in the world), Valley of the Kings (the site of over 60 pharaoh tombs), and a few of the other most famous standalone sites. It was exquisite and also often crowded with tour groups - making it sometimes hard to really fully digest the splendor of what was in front of me. On the third day, though, on the advice of some other backpackers, I took a day trip to Dendera to see the Temple of Hathor with a friend I had made the day prior. 90 minutes north and not often visited, it was by far my favorite site in Egypt; the paintings, carvings and artwork were absolutely splendid - and we got to take our time and experience it alone. Beyond that, I was there with someone who enjoyed taking photo shoots of himself in these sites - and who enjoyed using me as a model to refine his angles and focus. So as we went, we found unique view points or locations that would make good photos, and I got to “model’ as he would set up his shoot. Normally, I judge these kinds of people trying to snap the best picture of themselves - but I really enjoyed the way Matt went about it. It wasn’t vain or superficial - but instead helped me to think of finding beauty in the temple in new ways. It reminded me to never be dogmatic about what is an enlightened or powerful way to experience something - and gave me one more tool in my set to experience awe in the splendor of beauty all around me. (Plus, I suspect by time I get these pictures back, I’ll have enough good photos for one hell of an obnoxious dating profile).
When I got to Cairo!, I had become thoroughly used to Egypt; I was willing and almost excited by crossing three lane roads in the middle of traffic, I was firm about what food should cost, and I was beginning to feel unfazed by the chaos. I even decided to head to Giza by myself. My path there included a taxi driver taking me to the local / Arab entrance - which meant zooming past essentially mob members chasing the car trying to extort fees to pass (within feet of the police). The entrance ticket “queue” was dense crowd of people shoving toward the ticket booth waving cash in their hand. The entrance gate in from this section was surrounded by people shoving their way toward the locked door like lower class passengers on the Titanic; the guards would open it and let a batch of people in, then shove it closed against people - even if it meant separating children from their parents. I’m not saying a grabbed a child to get onto the lifeboat, but I did successfully shove my way through the entrance and into the Pyramid complex. To get back, I hopped on another random bus heading in my general direction and just got off when I was within two miles of my hostel. In terms of the destination of Giza itself, compared to the rest of Egypt, I found the pyramids underwhelming; exquisite from a distance, up close they vaguely look like large piles of crumbling rocks. In the rest of Cairo, the touristy sections of the city were charming but not noteworthy compared to everything I’d seen in the country. What I loved about Cairo was getting out of the touristy sections, though: getting koshary from Abou Tarek or foul from a local cart, crossing the Nile by foot or watching the locals go about their day. The city is a true metropolis - a place where you can find almost anything and the energy is intense and contagious. I’m glad I saved Cairo for last because I was able to lean into the things that had, for the week prior, overwhelmed me - and get a taste of the vibrant local life.
I had a near romance in my Cairo hostel where I met another gay man who was leaving on a night bus that day. As is common in hostels, he was planning to just hang out in the common areas until midnight - but it was getting cold. I invited him to watch a movie in my room to be warmer, where the only place to sit was my bed. About an hour into Pitch Perfect 3, he decided to go to sleep for a few hours until his night bus. I found myself in a familiar place of anxiety - worried that he wasn’t having a good time or was uncomfortable. I interrupted the anxiety by asking myself “am I projecting something here?” to find an obvious answer - that I can struggle to sit alongside someone else without trying to please them, and that I was struggling with my own sense of worth by not doing anything to tend to him. When I answered the question, I realized he was actually asleep - clearly in no way uncomfortable - and it opened me up more to the sense of intimacy that comes from sitting near someone doing something different, trusting that they’re taking care of themselves. It might be a banal observation - but for me it was a breakthrough moment on my addiction to caretaking for others. The next day, however, I did have a short, reckless fling with a couple from Singapore when I re-routed my Uber from the airport to their hotel - taking a 90 minute detour that got me to the gate three minutes before boarding. It was a win for the return to carefree Devin - a version who is impulsive within bounds, and who trusts that things will work out if he trusts his gut and does what he want. Plus, if the morality police wanted to deport me, might as well have it be right when I’m leaving anyway.
After Cairo, I dove even deeper into chaos by going to New Delhi* - the second largest metropolitan area in the world. While the city (and India) are easier to navigate than Egypt, Cairo has nothing on Delhi when it comes to the endless cycle of noise, pollution, and bustle. In Cairo I may have crossed three lanes of traffic - but in New Delhi it was five during rush hour. You can’t go anywhere without without hearing an endless stream of hocking on roads that appear to have an optional number of lanes - and you’re never more than 100 feet from some kind of street food vendor. While Delhi has some incredible architecture (Akshardham, Lotus Temple, Humayum’s Tomb, Red Fort), what made me enjoy the city was the energy and the locals. I had perhaps my strangest local romance yet; a date on my first night turned into 24 hours as the third party to a local boy and his ex - who bickered constantly in Hindi. But they were also both eager to show me the food, culture, and way of being in their country - a deep level of hospitality shared by another local friend I made at a street cart. As India’s capital, it brings in people from all over the country - a diversity of rich cultural heritage, visible nowhere more clearly than in the endless street food scene of the city. I ate and ate and ate my way through Delhi - more than making up for my days of mushy carrots in Morocco.
If there was a growth theme between these stories and the lessons I learned from them it’s this: to not take myself, my thoughts or life too seriously - to just remain open and experience life as it’s happening, with a level of faith or trust that it will all work out. To respect my body and its wishes without fear or shame - and to stop trying to control others’ emotional states or well-being with my actions.
For a long time now, my growth journey has been marked by super-serious introspection - coming to a deep intellectual understanding of what makes me tick and a heightened awareness of what is going on in my body. I don’t regret anything about that journey - and suspect that it was all necessary to get me to where I’m sensing I am today. But it is not a place someone can be in and also flourish; it’s stifling, defined by risk aversion and neuroticism.
That journey was also marked by a deep sense that I couldn’t trust myself: that I was more prone to engaging in addictive, familiar patterns than those that are healthy for me. That, maybe, I didn’t even have a sense of what was good for me - or a concept of or willingness to experience what good things actually felt like.
This last month, I’ve often been in a deep place of trusting my gut and not being judgmental about whatever feels right. I’ve found myself being carefree and wild when it feels right, introspective and antisocial when I need it, firm and direct when someone has left me feeling hurt or inferior, and open to changing plans or doing things (and even really enjoying things) that once felt deeply out of character. I’ve stopped being an open book - something I have long mistaken as vulnerability and honesty - with existing as I feel and sharing only what I feel like sharing. I’ve embraced that most problems do resolve themselves, that almost everything will work out in some way at the end, and that most thorny issues can be resolved by abandoning them. I’ve shed lots of sticky morality thinking that there are superior or inferior ways of existing - and have found myself just taking the approaches that feel right for me in the moment.
That, of course, isn’t to say this has been my constant state. I’ve certainly walked when I should’ve taken the metro, been lost and unwilling to ask for help, stayed with people when I wanted to be alone, stayed alone when I needed people, worked when I needed to rest, and engaged in try-hard exchanges that clearly stem from a need to please or be liked. But even these, I’ve embraced with compassion and a lack of overserious thinking, often chuckling to myself with a note like “well that was immature” or “that clearly wasn’t self-responsive.” Part of this trust has been accepting that not all my impulses will be good - but that I’ll be able to recognize when that’s the case and adjust. I’ve become more tolerant of my mistakes - and more willing to recognize when I need to change paths.
To my delight, this has not resulted in me coming off as aloof, unserious, or overly lax. Instead, I’ve found that, if anything, my flame burns brighter existing as I come. People have continued to find me kind and warm - but have also noted to me strengths in being enigmatic, flexible, patient, balanced, and at peace. Someone centered and comfortable - deeply flawed but aware of it and constantly learning. Perhaps most pronounced as a shift, someone willing to let loose and just enjoy whatever is happening - without questioning whether that joy is worthwhile or enlightened.
As for what’s next on my journey, this month, I spend three weeks in India and then fly to New Zealand to meet my niece for a three week campervan trip (an amazing experience that is sure to wreck my budget - and prove itself to be well worth the money spent). There are very few people I would spend such a long time with in a vehicle - and my niece is one of them. Along the way, I make a transit stop in Singapore for four days.
I made the exciting (and challenging) decision to cut my traveling journey down by two months - replacing it instead with a three week silent meditation retreat in Thailand followed by a 25 day yoga teacher training in India. Sometimes on this trip, I can get fixated on adding countries or new cities - so the idea of cutting 7 weeks of travel potential out felt like it would come at a great loss at first. But on this long journey of exploring myself, restoring my energy, and re-centering my sense of self in the world, I can’t actually imagine a more appropriate capstone to my trip than 7 weeks of deep introspection - or a better use of this enormous chunk of time entirely to myself. I may add a transit country between Thailand and India or a transit country between India and the United States - but for the most part, my new city and country experiences will be done after 13 months - on June 5th. You’ll still get updates for the retreat months, but they won’t include fast paced travel and new cities. I’ll offer glimpses of life in the retreats and any spiritual lessons I gain while in them - but they will look and feel different. Who knows, they may be my richest summaries from the whole trip.
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LIFE ON the ROAD continues to be A LEARNING PROCESS
Like last month, I continued to recover from brain fog and fatigue - only to get sick fresh again in New Delhi. Each month, I use this section to expand on mental stirrings that have felt impactful. Given my reduced mental faculties, I’ve continued to be a bit less esoteric - and my grand reflections have been thinner; I don’t think I’ve jotted any down so far in February. Maybe that’s for the better, though; like losing my super serious brand of intellectualism for more in the moment living, maybe this is just a sign that I’m getting a little less lost in the big questions. But I’m still me, and sometimes my mind moves to the big questions. Here’s what I’ve been thinking about:
I began the second half of my journey not excited to be back on the move again - having enjoyed time to relax and recover at home. This was made worse because my first two stops were a bit too short to experience the country (9 days in Morocco, 8 in Egypt), pushing me to move fast and see as much as I could. I had a helpful moment in Marrakesh, though, where I watched a gardner rake for 30 minutes, mesmerized by the whole process. It reminded me that beauty is everywhere, and that any attachment I have to just adding more cities, countries or sites is largely a drive for constant stimulation (or even bragging rights). It was a needed reminder that life deserves slowing down and experiencing things deeply - and something that helped me to come to the decision to remove 7 weeks of travel from my trip in favor of two retreats.
My strange do-over parents in Fez kept referring to me as “enigmatic,” which is, to be honest, a word no one has ever used to describe me. I have lived my life largely as an open book - always willing to share intimate details and put myself out there. I think that has stopped in the last two months, and I’ve begun only sharing when I want to and it feels right. When unpacking this enigmatic comment, I realized that, up until now, I’ve mistaken being an open book and often over sharing with vulnerability and authenticity. I’ve become more secure now knowing that I’m still vulnerable and authentic if I live in that relationship to myself - and I never have a duty or obligation to put myself fully out to others. I think as a consequence, the friendships I’ve been forming feel more natural - never having forced intimacies by trauma dumping or oversharing. Beyond that, I’m beginning to feel more defined by my way of being than by anything I’ve done or experienced; I think I’ve begun to embrace more that I never have to say who I am - but be as I am.
I’ve been wondering for a while now why my pace of growth has become so much more rapid on the road. To be honest, I do less intentional work - no journaling, less inner parts work, and less serious introspection. It dawned on me this month that I’ve spent the last five years developing and practicing a robust skill set - and that this is the first time I’ve been able to put it into practice outside of the context of being re-traumatized constantly. Sometimes, I dismiss the idea of new place, new start - but I’ve seen really clearly on this trip that sometimes growth can’t happen without space from whatever the source of harm was.
I had a lot of things not go as I would have precisely hoped so far on this leg of my trip - but I’ve found myself remarkably calm as it’s happening. I think I’ve embraced that most problems can be solved by abandoning whatever vision I had of the original solution - or by abandoning the situation all together if it seems to just be causing discomfort. I can be so rigid about seeing things through that I put myself in pain’s way to finish out a plan - no matter how unimportant the precise details of that plan are. Traveling alone in these countries has helped me to form less attachment to my plans, goals, or idea - and be more flexible in adapting to reality as it unfolds in from of me. I think practicing that muscle was one of the reasons I was able to quickly decided to shift weeks of travel to weeks of retreat - because I could see a new plan would be more responsive to what I actually need.
This month (between Morocco, Egypt and India) has been a month of rampant overstimulation - of noise, bustle, scents, and people approaching me. My nervous system has spent a lot of time untethered - with me jittery and uncomfortable. When I started on the journey of overwhelm, I had it in my head that it would be a space for me to practice taking in more stimuli while keeping my nervous system anchored. Instead, I think I’ve been finding that my body just has a limit - and the best thing I can do for myself is to recognize and know when I need quiet space to recover. Sometimes, I get it into my head that I can learn to deal with anything I find challenging. But, it’s become clear to me that that idea is limited when it comes to constant overstimulation - that trying to make it work and sit in it is just a failure of self-awareness and self-compassion. I need plenty of quiet time alone for my own centered peace - and pretending that isn’t the case is naive (and egotistical).
I was happy to see that, several times this month, I was able to confront someone and stop an interaction when they were doing something that made me feel bad - or like I wasn’t enough. I did it without shame or guilt - though there was definitely a bit of oversharing. In my life, I’ve always struggled with putting caretaking for others over my own needs - and at the extreme, tending to the emotions of people who are actively being unkind, belittling or controlling with me. It’s been a delight to see that something has shifted - that I don’t feel an obligation to caretake for someone who is hurting me. It’s a marker of meaningful growth.
The most common way to travel Egypt is on a Nile Cruse - which results in Egyptian cities themselves being largely devoid of western tourists but the attractions being packed with them. Each time I walked along the Nile, I would see these luxury ships and their passengers sitting hundreds of feet away from stark poverty. These tourists have created an entire false world to experience Egypt as a luxury destination - one that insulates them from the reality of seeing the country as it is or interacting with the locals. Each time, I found it a bothersome and gross display of income inequality - and something that prevents locals from benefitting at all from the tourism.
Last, I’ve been noticing that I’ve been experiencing my empath pain differently - either seeing something but not internalizing it or seeing it and having a singular sensation of suffering. The first was obvious to me why it’s changed; I’ve shored up my personal boundaries and can now see suffering without mistaking it as my own. But the second wasn’t as obvious - because I realized that others’ suffering didn’t used to feel singularly bad - but had some rewarding tinge to it. I realized that I used to see purpose in others’ suffering - that, like trauma porn, it made me grateful for my own life and gave me a path to feeling worthy by helping others. I no longer feel an inherent duty to help others, especially if they don’t ask for help; (I do, however, feel good helping others when I choose to - and often choose to). I realized that this now stopped me from seeing something potentially gratifying to me in other’s pain. To be honest, this was a harsh realization about prior me - that there was something I liked about seeing suffering, that in some way I made other people’s pain about myself. I know I’m not alone in that, though, and I’m grateful to have seen it and to have witnessed it changing.
I think a lot of what I’ve been thinking about this month has opened from a place of self-compassion. I’ve been looking at the ways that I’m flawed and complicit in harmful things more openly, less harshly - finding humor and humanity in my failings. It’s allowed me to approach life more flexibly, less dogmatically, and less egotistically. I hope that this is a journey that continues for me.
I’m Very Much Over budget
If you’re wondering how much this is costing me - so far, for nine months in Europe, the Middle East, Christmas in the US, North Africa and into India, I’ve spent $18,608. I wrote about my budget here and this spend is about $500 above target (driven entirely by the flights to Marrakesh, Cairo and New Delhi). India is proving to be well below budget, though, and I’m continuing to gather money from my $10 a day long-term cost pool to cover the flights, so I expect I will be back on or close to on budget by time I get to New Zealand.
Unfortunately, I know that New Zealand will put me well over budget again - and I would be unsurprised if I got to Taiwan in March $1,200 - $1,800 over budget. Flights into and out of the island nation are expensive - even the relatively cheap $400 flights I managed to find. Renting a camper van essentially takes up all of my budget for my three weeks there - so every dollar spent on gas, food, and entrance fees will put me over target.
No matter how it shakes out, though, I know it will be worth it. My niece is one of only two people in my life who was sure-footed in wanting to join me on this trip - and she wanted to do New Zealand. Exploring this spectacular country with her will be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity I’m completely unwilling to miss, no matter what it does to my budget.
I’m actually feeling hopeful I’ll be able to reign it all in by the end, though. I decided to cut out Japan and South Korea both to make space for my meditation and yoga retreats - and also to ease up pressure on my budget. Between the retreats (which are below budget) and sticking to Southeast Asia, I’ll have several months after New Zealand where it should be easy to stay well below budget.
Of course, the cost of my flight back home is still an unknown - and that could always throw off the math.
But also, I’m just no longer worried about it. My budget of $30,000 is slightly arbitrary as I could take more out of savings, my parents gifted me $2,000 for Christmas because they wanted to support this journey, and I invested $5,000 of the cash set aside for this trip last June and just sold it at a $2,000 gain - so any extreme attachment to my original goal is unreasonable. I still have hope, though, that I’ll be able to finish my 16 months below $30,000 - at least proving it’s feasible without sacrificing the amazing opportunities that have stretched my spending. But I think my worst case scenario will still be under $32,000.
My Minimalist Pack Has Grown Some
I’m now a month into my minimalist (one overhead backpack) packing and it’s largely gone well. I left with 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), two pairs of sneakers, flip flops, one workout outfit, one swimsuit, a kneepad for yoga and workouts, 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). Over my first month, I did pick up a few new items, including a puffer jacket (because it got really cold in North Africa), a new pair of pants (because my jeans were proving too baggy), two small bags (a fanny back and a drawstring to carry when I’m out and about), thin material shorts (for casual wear), new socks (because some of mine had holes) and a shawl of sorts (for cool but not cold weather). With these additions, my bag is definitely more tightly packed - but still able to fit in an overhead; I’m considering getting rid of the thermal and the jeans because they’re not getting use anymore, and I may eventually get rid of the puffer jacket when I’m clear of cold weather potential. It may take me a while to pull the trigger on that, though, because the bag is working so far (and I’m always hesitant to throw things out). I haven’t even gotten rid of my socks with holes yet.
With this new pack, it’s easier for me to walk where there aren’t many sidewalks, to move quickly, to get in buses or trains with my bag, and to explore with my luggage when necessary. In terms of the physical workout of a backpack versus a roller bag - it’s definitely proving to be an adjustment, especially as I’ve been recovering from being sick and then got sick again. But I’m much happier with this minimalist packing so far, even if I’m still making some adjustments.
At some point when my energy stores are back up, I’ll post a bag 2.0 blog about more minimalist packing.
KNOW ANYONE ELSE WHO WOULD LIKE THIS?
I’m going to try to write up one of these summaries every month - though I’ll definitely keep working on my format as I go (so please give me feedback if there’re things you want to hear more or less about). If you think anyone else would enjoy these summaries, have them sign up for the mailing list with the submission box below.