You may have heard my story before: I quit my job to travel the world and write. If you're an idealist, this might sound exciting, but for a Type-A pragmatist like me, this transition is scary. Like many others in their twenties and early thirties, I found myself stuck in the gray area between college and adulthood. Do I start having babies, buy a house...or go home and eat a jar of Nutella? Travel seems like a great way to get away from it all. I imagined being away from the safety of my home, the stability of my routine, and the distractions of family and friends would help me find my own path.
But traveling didn’t reveal what I was supposed to do with my life, but rather the complicated mess that I was. After the novelty of living in another country wore off and I checked off all the to-dos on my travel list, I was faced with the clock. It's time to think. It’s time to question who I am and why I do what I do. I didn’t have a 9-to-5 job to distract me, a stable life to keep me safe, and no friends to entertain me. Add to that the vulnerability that travel brings, and you get a higher level of self-reflection.
These eight realizations are just a few of the many things I’ve learned about myself over the past year—both good and bad.
1. I don’t know the first thing about living in the moment.
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Let’s get one thing straight: Contrary to what my current lifestyle might suggest, I am not a free person. I'm a planner. I love making lists and making five-year plans (I know, I'm terrible at it). It goes without saying that this personality is not well suited to a life of frequent travel. For example, as I write this, we have no idea where we will be six days from today. seriously.
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When the transition approached, I would wake up early and lie in bed, planning the possibilities. I looked up flights on Kayak and apartments on Airbnb. I spent my precious days not enjoying the here and now, but instead falling into daydreams (or nightmares) about the future. Today I am in a typical Parisian café, but my mind is on the day we left. How many of these days have I missed because I'm stuck in the future? I'm learning how to release my stranglehold on life, but as my computer's search history confirms, I'm nowhere near where I should be.
2. My body is great
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This is a life lesson I learned from the Japanese. A lot of my body insecurities stemmed from feelings of inferiority when I compared myself to other women. I hate the feeling of having to suck on my belly at the beach. Even worse are the snide leers and silent judgments we women give each other.
Japan is different. An ancient tradition preserved in some Japanese villages is the custom of bathing in public baths called "hot springs" or "sento" . Since I live in a van, these public bathrooms have become as essential to my daily life as convenience store bathrooms (I know, gross). At first I cringed a little as I stripped naked, squatted down, and was scrubbed in a small, well-lit room filled with other naked women. I'm sure everyone is judging me.
But the more I went to the hot springs , the more I stopped cowering in the corner of the room and started observing the women around me. They didn't pose or steal glances at each other. Instead, they rubbed each other's backs, poured a bucket of soapy water between their legs, and gossiped. It was so shocking – I was hooked.
Taking a hot spring bath at night has become my favorite time of day. I feel like I'm part of a community. I have never felt so comfortable and at peace with a group of women. I have never been so accepting of my body. It wasn’t until I left Japan that I discovered this feeling had a name. The Japanese call it " hadaka no tsukia i," which means "naked communication" or "naked friendship."
3. I spend too much time feeling guilty
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Even though I have to work to support the life I have, I spend a lot of time feeling guilty. I feel lucky – too lucky to be doing what I’m doing. Travel is a luxury that many people don’t indulge in. At times, the guilt was so high that I would downplay my experiences to friends or intentionally give up on social media in an attempt to hide what I considered a glamorous life.
Here's what I realized: People don't care. Everyone is too busy with their own lives to worry about mine. While others were buying cars and boats or posting pictures of babies, I was spending money on plane tickets to Bangkok and posting pictures of Bali beaches. It doesn't matter.
4. I’d rather live in a van than in a house
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Yes, I've done it all, and no, I'm not crazy. When my husband suggested we live in a van while traveling in Japan—in the middle of winter—I almost lost it. Turns out, he was right. The month we lived in the van was hands down the best month of my life (I’m serious).
I love how organized we are. I love making tea, snuggling up in my sleeping bag while it snows outside, and how our “home” travels with us. And then there's the bigger bonus: It's hard to fight when you're living in a minivan with another person. Sure, you can close the van door and stomp around in the snow, but before long the cold will overtake your pride and you'll have to deal with it. We adapt to the lack of space by fighting less and reconciling more quickly. We are gentler with each other and with ourselves.
5. Female friendships are not optional.
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I love my husband. He's funny, kind, funny - but he also has limitations. First, he thinks all clothes look the same, knows nothing about lipstick, and unfortunately, he's not very willing to listen to me talk about our relationship. That's why girls need friends.
I've always had close friends, and while I knew traveling a lot wasn't conducive to friendships, I didn't realize how much of an impact a lack of female support would have on my life. I crave female attention. I miss the intimate feeling of sitting next to your best girlfriend, drinking cocktails and gossiping.
6. I don’t actually need a lot of money or clothes
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I was raised to be frugal, so staying within a budget was more of a game than a restriction. I realized that even though I live in an expensive country, I don't need a lot of money. Rent and air tickets are inevitable, but activities and meals can be ridiculously cheap. I refuse to pay 17 euros to go to the top of the Eiffel Tower; I'd rather eat my brie and baguette for free on the grass below. Instead of going out to eat every night, I cooked a bag of beans for a week and mastered the art of cooking (don't judge, it took some time). In Japan, we adjust to the cost of living by eating rice balls , peanuts, and Fuji apples from convenience stores. Eating out means paying $8 for a bowl of ramen.
I also learned that I could travel with almost nothing. A pair of jeans, a plain T-shirt, nice shoes, flip-flops, a versatile jacket, and regular laundry are enough to keep you looking presentable and smelling fresh. About half of the clothes I kept were either shipped home or discarded along the way.
7. I can adapt to almost anything
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Over the past year, I have traveled from a monastery to India, to a villa in Indonesia, to a refrigerated truck in Japan, to Tokyo, to third world Cambodia, and finally to Paris. Who knows what will happen next, but here’s the thing: I’m not worried about my ability to adapt (as you know by now, I love to worry).
Transformation sucks, but humans are great. We can adapt to anything we set our minds to. Your body can go from freezing to sticky hot without losing any rhythm. You can spend months eating rice and then wake up in the land of cheese and baguette.
What surprised me most was how quickly I adapted to living conditions that I initially thought were difficult. In Cambodia, there are frequent power outages, ants take over our kitchen, and the water that comes out of the bathroom sink first thing in the morning is brown, but after a few days, it feels like home. So far, nothing I've encountered has been too difficult to adjust to.
8. It’s hard for me to go home, but that’s where I want to be
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I grew up in a small town that I happened to love, but I spent a lot of energy trying to prove to myself that I could do bigger and do better. While half of me wanted to live down the street from my parents and trade clothes with my mom (she was cool), the other half of me decided that ultimately staying where I grew up would make me a failure.
This residential complex I developed led me to move to New York, the Caribbean, and now, I have embraced this traveler lifestyle. It’s only been over the past month that I’ve come to terms with the fact that after this the adventure is over and there’s no place like home for me – and that’s okay.
Picture: @eviecarrick /instagram (8), Picture: Evie Carrick (2), @shanecarrick /instagram (2)
