Introduction
In May, Kyle and I set out on a 16-day journey to the United Kingdom. This was my first ever trip abroad. The idea for the trip first started in Kyle’s head many years ago, when he met a fellow student named Sam while they were studying abroad in New Zealand. Kyle’s time abroad featured late night hangouts, backpacking trips, and, most importantly, plenty of “footy” with Sam who grew up in West London. Throughout the years since they met, they’ve stayed connected through a handful of letters, phone/video calls, and one care package with authentic Cadbury eggs, a Brentford FC jersey, and too much Vegemite for my feeble American palate. The trip started with 5 days in London where Sam, and his wonderful partner Sophie, hosted us with amazing kind hearts, generosity, and hospitality in their cozy North London flat. We shyly got to know each other over glasses of Guinness and home cooked meals and, of course, English Premier League Football.
Before we left on our trip, I hadn’t put much thought into deeper questions surrounding travel. Such as, what does ethical travel mean and how do I want my international travel to look? I certainly didn’t consider how the human emotion of loneliness or longing for connection would play into my time. I found myself considering these questions and more, deep in the United Kingdom halfway through my travels. The following journal entry is from when Kyle and I left Soph and Sam in London and traveled solo in Scotland. I hope you can consider some of these queries with me! Enjoy!
Journal Entry
Kyle and I have been away from home for about 10 days now. While I’ve had the best time seeing everything and experiencing new places, I’m also struck by how normal, dare I say routine, life is here. The places we’ve visited remind me some of the cities, resort towns, and landscapes I see back home. The people do the same things—hike, eat, shop, socialize—and the businesses run on the same capitalism and tourism we have back home. It both makes me want to reflect on if the problem is with tourism (am I bound to feeling disconnected)—even though I’m contributing to it myself?—or if the problem is more with me. Why do I feel entitled to an experience in which I don’t feel like an outsider? Why did I feel like my traveling would feel more intimate, community-based, localized….different? To be fair, we’ve done a handful of things to travel more ethically and with community in mind. We stay at small business B&Bs or homes, we try not to be “those Americans” by acting polite and tuning in to local customs, and we try (I think) to make connections with the people we meet. This part, I admit, has been difficult for me. Between my own social anxiety (enhanced by feeling like an outsider) and the somewhat palpable anti-american sentiment that has semi caught me by surprise, I’ve struggled to feel comfortable. I admit I could do better.
Kyle and I have filled bits of our time by reading a book called “The Living Mountain” written by Nan Shepard, a Scottish woman from Aberdeenshire in the 1950s. The book narrates Nan’s decades-long experiences of getting to know the Cairngorms National Forest where she grew up. Her thesis is, in a nutshell, only through depth (not breadth) can you get to know the life inside a place and all of the special offerings it contains.
Back to ethical and intimate travel, I’m beginning to wonder—does it even exist? I had this idea in my head of what my travel experiences would be like (again somewhat entitled of me). But outside of my intimate relationship-focused time with Soph & Sam in London, I haven’t found it yet. I’m beginning to think Nan Shepherd’s ideas advocating for depth over breadth are already applicable to my life. By traveling around Scotland we aren’t necessarily getting depth of anything. Not of culture, of landscape, and least of all relationships. In future travels, perhaps we could stay in one location longer and try to resist the capitalistic notion to consume as much of a country as possible; try to resist the scarcity mindset that we will never travel here again, so we must do it all in the short time that we have. And instead, visit places for people, not in search of “exotic” or different enough experiences. I feel certain we will be back in London if privilege allows, to see our new dear friends.
All this to say: I appreciate and recognize the enormous privilege and environmental consumption that is international travel. Getting to widen my experience/perceptions of the world, community, and new places for the first time will forever be something I hold dearly. I won’t ever forget some of the memories I’ve made and special moments I’ve had, especially with Kyle and my new friends. To not express gratitude would be remiss and not true to my actual experience. It’s also true, though, that this experience has left me with some questions to consider: How can I travel with less “consumption”? How can I hold Nan’s lessons of intimacy and depth over breadth more in my life and future travels? And what will I change to make the most out of my remaining time in Scotland and with my last day with my friends in London?