I’m sitting on the floor of an airport arrival gate using my phone as it charges and watching energy drip slowly into my phone exhausted from the day of travels, constantly lingering at the zero to 20-something percent range depending on how long I sit at each charging point.
The days exhaustion is no accident. I missed my initial bus stop to the airport I flew out from, and missed the connecting bus by seconds. I took another bus back and then a train and by then it was already pretty late. My mistake cost me 7 hours out of a nine hour transit time. In any other situation I would have missed my flight.
This is as much a reality of travel as is that picture perfect melbourne filtered post of the alps. No one is going to argue that travelling isn’t about pursuing these moments of magic, but travelling is also that mind numbing layover and the missed bus stop, money lost and leg hairs being tugged mercilessly by the heattech warmer and body screaming for sleep.
But no one wants to talk about these things because travelling should be all about self discovery and seeing the world. And that discovery seems to come without baggage, a carefree notion so divorced from toil.
But every vacation does come with baggage. I’d say a lot of how we choose to handle ourselves from our travels comes not from that amazing sight or insane experience but from the little setbacks that we face. That cancelled flight, the midnight drive to a car rental return at 6 am, the waiting, the yearning, the adventures turned into mishaps that became adventures anyway.
An amazing sight presents itself so readily; ever so bright and fuzzy with hashtags and geotags and likes and comments. A plane wreckage Iceland, a perfect triangle of a pyramid, a castle on a hill. However in the lonely moments sitting on the airport floor was where things really made sense to me; tired, lonely, not a single photogenic opportunity around me. And yet I knew then, exactly what I wanted.
I didn’t need to go so far after all.