"Seize the time. Live now. Make now always the most precious time. Now will never come again."
I've been quoting that to my parents all week, until they're visibly ready to kill me. A small part of that animosity -- on my mother's part at least -- stems from the fact that one of her favorite sayings is "Now is always the best time," and she probably is irritated at the idea of Captain Picard saying something more eloquently than her.
I've decided to postpone -- for a semester, or longer -- my return to Georgia.
Instead, I'm doing something possibly even more crazy, even more ill-advised (especially if "you" refers to my parents). In the beginning of September, I'll be embarking on a three-month solo backpacking trip around southern Europe.
So why -- and how -- did this happen?
Now, one thing that has always pissed me off is reading travelogues and having the writer say something to the effect of "And so then I got on a plane to Borneo", with little or no explanation whatsoever as to how such a luxury was so ephemerally available. They come across with this unspoken idea that the only thing you -- the average anybody -- need in order to embark on a life-changing journey to Borneo is the sudden willingness to just give up things like jobs and bills and life, and take a'hold of your gumption and the stones to take an occasional cold shower and eat a cockroach.
As someone who has often dreamed of escaping to Borneo, or Italy, or even Georgia, I can tell you with authority that it takes a lot more than gumption. This shit takes money, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter how much gumption you have. You aren't getting on a plane to Delaware, let alone Borneo.
Which is why I feel a responsibility to come clean and let all my nebulous global readers know that what I am about to do is only possible because I recently received an entirely unexpected legacy from my incredible grandparents. If I had not been the humble, grateful, entirely floored recipient of said gift, I'd be planning to haul my butt back to Georgia this autumn as planned and be not the least bit unhappy at this prospect. But that's turned out to be not the case. Instead, I have an opportunity. I have choice.
I've always said that if I had the chance, I would just travel, for as long as possible. I finally was able to figure out that travel is what makes me happy, makes me alive. I'd stagnated for way too long -- and possibly that's made me a tad overeager, I admit it -- but I have an opportunity now, and I'm not going to waste it.
Three months, alone. On the move. France, Spain, Malta, Greece, Italy, and wherever else I can go after that should I still have anything left in the warp nacells.
I talked to my Grandmother about my plans while I was in New Jersey last week. She was all for it, 100%. And I had more than one relative assure me that my Grandfather -- the one who passed away last autumn and whose seashells are currently sitting on my bookshelf -- would want me to take this chance, take this time. This being the same Grandfather who sat me down and told me that the one thing I absolutely, positively, had to do in Rome was to order a Campari and soda on the Piazza Navona, I find myself agreeing.
Make now always the most precious time. I've wasted so much Now already, and that's time that no one ever gets to have back. Wish to heaven I'd figured all this out seven or ten years ago, although I would never be able to appreciate it the way I do, had I not had those years in between.
So maybe this is a foolish decision. Maybe it's dumb to tear off to Europe instead of building my international resume or giving my 401(k) an infusion, or some other practical, responsible thing.
Don't care.
Gonna go.
I've been quoting that to my parents all week, until they're visibly ready to kill me. A small part of that animosity -- on my mother's part at least -- stems from the fact that one of her favorite sayings is "Now is always the best time," and she probably is irritated at the idea of Captain Picard saying something more eloquently than her.
I've decided to postpone -- for a semester, or longer -- my return to Georgia.
Instead, I'm doing something possibly even more crazy, even more ill-advised (especially if "you" refers to my parents). In the beginning of September, I'll be embarking on a three-month solo backpacking trip around southern Europe.
So why -- and how -- did this happen?
Now, one thing that has always pissed me off is reading travelogues and having the writer say something to the effect of "And so then I got on a plane to Borneo", with little or no explanation whatsoever as to how such a luxury was so ephemerally available. They come across with this unspoken idea that the only thing you -- the average anybody -- need in order to embark on a life-changing journey to Borneo is the sudden willingness to just give up things like jobs and bills and life, and take a'hold of your gumption and the stones to take an occasional cold shower and eat a cockroach.
As someone who has often dreamed of escaping to Borneo, or Italy, or even Georgia, I can tell you with authority that it takes a lot more than gumption. This shit takes money, and if you don't have it, it doesn't matter how much gumption you have. You aren't getting on a plane to Delaware, let alone Borneo.
Which is why I feel a responsibility to come clean and let all my nebulous global readers know that what I am about to do is only possible because I recently received an entirely unexpected legacy from my incredible grandparents. If I had not been the humble, grateful, entirely floored recipient of said gift, I'd be planning to haul my butt back to Georgia this autumn as planned and be not the least bit unhappy at this prospect. But that's turned out to be not the case. Instead, I have an opportunity. I have choice.
I've always said that if I had the chance, I would just travel, for as long as possible. I finally was able to figure out that travel is what makes me happy, makes me alive. I'd stagnated for way too long -- and possibly that's made me a tad overeager, I admit it -- but I have an opportunity now, and I'm not going to waste it.
Three months, alone. On the move. France, Spain, Malta, Greece, Italy, and wherever else I can go after that should I still have anything left in the warp nacells.
I talked to my Grandmother about my plans while I was in New Jersey last week. She was all for it, 100%. And I had more than one relative assure me that my Grandfather -- the one who passed away last autumn and whose seashells are currently sitting on my bookshelf -- would want me to take this chance, take this time. This being the same Grandfather who sat me down and told me that the one thing I absolutely, positively, had to do in Rome was to order a Campari and soda on the Piazza Navona, I find myself agreeing.
Make now always the most precious time. I've wasted so much Now already, and that's time that no one ever gets to have back. Wish to heaven I'd figured all this out seven or ten years ago, although I would never be able to appreciate it the way I do, had I not had those years in between.
So maybe this is a foolish decision. Maybe it's dumb to tear off to Europe instead of building my international resume or giving my 401(k) an infusion, or some other practical, responsible thing.
Don't care.
Gonna go.
My father's advice, "Do what you want to do, just be willing to pay the consequences."
ReplyDeleteGood for you for doing what you want to do. As different as our dreams are, I'm glad we're both getting to achieve them.
Fab idea. I want to come!
ReplyDeleteThat is incredibly awesome. I have not traveled a fraction of what you have, but I really treasure my memories of backpacking for 5 weeks through the British Isles. I envy your adventures!
ReplyDelete