I was twenty-eight when I travelled abroad for the first time. From a young age, I wanted to know what the rest of the world looked like, fueled by the ever-present sense that I don’t quite belong. My dad’s response to my request to holiday overseas was that I should see my own country before I could explore another. As I grew up, I realized travelling was expensive, and he couldn’t afford a family vacation out of the country. So, at twenty-eight, I joined a love interest on a work trip to Portugal even though I knew the relationship, or whatever it was, would not last. I didn’t want to let the opportunity to get the first stamp in my passport pass me by. A chance to experience the thrill of leaving a world in which I am mostly misunderstood behind for a while. And so my search for the place where I belong started.
Wanderlust: A strong desire to travel. The wish to travel far away and to many different places – Cambridge Dictionary
I met my husband on a blind date, and what struck me as I walked up to him in the restaurant was how uncomfortable he looked in his surroundings, almost as if he didn’t belong. An awkwardness I could relate to. Recognizing this commonality, we hit it off, and as I got to know him, I realised we shared a longing for a place we’d never been. I married him at thirty-four, not because my biological clock was ticking but because I knew he would be an enthusiastic travel companion. Our need to escape to another world became the glue that kept us together. Arriving home after a difficult day at work, we will escape reality by watching a travel program together while dreaming about what country we want to visit next. We know the best way to combat post-travel depression is to plan the next trip before the current trip ends. So, we often find ourselves researching the next country we want to explore in an airport lounge during a layover on our way home.
Fernweh [Feirn-vay] (German): An ache for distant places. Missing places one has never been. Craving for travel. Farsickness, the opposite of homesickness – iTranslate.com
My husband and I have different travel styles. My husband is a planner. He makes restaurant reservations beforehand, books skip-the-line tickets to museums and marks breakfast and lunch spots suggested by Tripadvisor or The Two Food Trippers on Google Maps. When I want to stop at a vibey restaurant to rest my tired feet or to quench a progressively unbearable thirst, he instructs me to push on as the Tripadvisor five-star rated restaurant is just around the corner. The problem is that my concept of how far exactly “just around the corner” differs significantly from his. “Just around the corner” should be precisely that, but it is not when my husband navigates. It usually means another few kilometres on foot and two bus rides in opposite directions. This obsession with finding the recommended restaurant usually results in me behaving like a two-year-old: stomping my feet (which by now have developed blisters) and shouting hoarsely from a parched throat that I refuse to walk any further. To be fair, it is not that my husband does not know how far “just around the corner” is, but he has a terrible sense of direction. Despite his inability to follow the blue arrow on Google Maps, he insists on being the tour guide and gets irritated when I open my travel app. I must give my husband credit for his planning, though. He usually retaliates quite smugly when I complain that his planning is cramping my spontaneity that we always have seats or tickets to sold-out events, and we skip the line while others who didn’t plan wait for hours.
The world is a book, and those who don’t travel only read one page – Eugene Levy, The Reluctant Traveler
I, on the other hand, like to explore. I deliberately veer into side streets away from the recommended main route on my travel app. I like to pop into cute shops that I stumble across on the way and eat at exciting restaurants in alleyways that are not on the map. I watch the locals and ask myself: What type of life would I have here? Where would I work, shop, and buy food? Would I fit in here? I visit the local grocery store to marvel at the unfamiliar and sometimes familiar products and their foreign packaging. I take my time to figure out the translation of the ingredients written in a foreign language. I buy sauces and sweets not readily available in South Africa. The pièce de resistance is the pet food aisle, where I stock up on exotic dog treats. Arriving home, I must open my suitcase in the kitchen, allowing my dogs to search for the treats they’ve come to expect.
One’s destination is never a place but a new way of seeing things – Henry Miller
Despite our different travel styles, we agree that travelling helps us understand the world we live in. For people who feel misunderstood, it is crucial to understand the world around them so they can adapt and try to fit in. Travel gives perspective and context. It allows one to relate to people in their surroundings and circumstances because one was there. I was immediately transported to Manhattan when I heard Fran Lebowitz talk about New York City in the series Pretend It’s a City. I could laugh at the inside joke she made with Martin Scorsese because I have walked the streets she talks about. I have “read” the subtext of the conversation. Apart from my fantastic time in New York, which will stay with me, I continue to cash in on the experience because I will continue to relate to people in this context. People feel misunderstood because others don’t take the time to “read” their subtext, so it is important to me to try to experience the world’s different subtexts.
Don’t argue with people with no passports. They can’t see the world. How will they see your point of view? – unknown, Instagram
South Africans are one of the most travelled nations in the world. My theory to explain this phenomenon is that we are the descendants of travellers. Our forefathers fled their countries to set foot on the Southern shore of the African continent to start a new life. I think South Africans travel often because our DNA tells us that we don’t belong here – that we come from somewhere else. My ancestors are French Huguenots who came to South Africa in the late 1600s. When I’m in Europe, people address me in French while they speak German to my husband. I wonder if I look French? Maybe they recognize something familiar in my face or my mannerisms? To my dismay, I don’t feel French. To be honest, I’m a little scared of the French. I’m constantly nervous about being scalded for not practising proper etiquette. Contrary to my expectations, I don’t feel like I belong amongst the French, so I continue my travels to search for where I get a sense of belonging.
It is not so much about the purpose of life than it is about feeling alive – The Morning Show
Someone said that there is a difference between not being dead and actually feeling alive. It is a shift from surviving to thriving. Each person needs to plug into what makes them feel most alive, emerged, engaged, curious, present, and able to take risks to create this shift. As the mundane routine of everyday life continues in an unforgiving world, I find that the only way I can move out of survival mode is to travel to a place unknown. I thrive when I relieve the restlessness generated by a sense that I don’t belong. I have to see if perhaps I do not belong somewhere else.
“What is the opposite of wanderlust?” my husband asks one night, pausing the travel program we are watching. Without hesitation, I answer, “Contentment”. I don’t think everyone experiences the same compulsion to leave the place they call home. People who feel emotionally safe and satisfied with their lives and know their place in the world are less inclined to search for something else. Who would want to leave their comfortable home to tough it out in an economy seat on an aeroplane if not compulsively in search of where they can feel at peace?
Peace is a hard commodity to come by these days – Tom Lake, Ann Patchett
It is not as if we don’t enjoy the small things of everyday life and are discontent with our lives. Travelling gives us a superpower. We are able to experience the ordinary as extraordinary. An Aperol Spritz after a long day at work becomes a moment of la dolce vita as we are transported to a piazza in Rome while we heat our instant dinner in the microwave. I am reminded of the town square in Ravello when I look at the flowers growing by my front door, and the first bite of my husband’s famous hamburgers takes me back to New York. However, sometimes, for a moment, when I walk my dogs while the African sun is setting, I feel that I do belong here, that I’m a scatterling of Africa after all.
