To the writer, you moved me with your words. Thank you. - Yeru
Date A Boy
Who Travels
Date a boy who travels. Date a boy who treasures
experience over toys, a hand-woven bracelet over a Rolex. Date the boy who
scoffs when he hears the words, “vacation”, “all-inclusive”, or “resort”. Date a
boy who travels because he’s not blinded by a single goal but enlivened by
many.
You might find him in an airport or at a book
store browsing the travel guides – although he “only uses them for
reference.”
You’ll know it’s him because when you peek at
his computer screen, his background will be a scenic splendor of rolling hills,
mountains, or prayer flags. His Facebook friend count will be over-the-roof, and
his wall will be plastered with the broken English ‘miss-you’ of friends he met
along the way. When he travels, he makes lifelong friends in an hour. And
although contact with these friends is sporadic and may be far-between, his
bonds are unmessable and if he wanted, he could couch surf the world…
again.
Buy him a beer, maybe the same brand that he
wears on the singlet under his plaid shirt, unable to truly let go. Once a
traveller gets home, people rarely listen to their stories. So listen to him.
Allow him to paint a picture that brings you into his world. He might talk fast
and miss small details because he’s so excited to be heard. Bask in his
enthusiasm. Want it for yourself.
He’ll squeak like an excited toddler when his
latest issue of National Geographic arrives in the mail. Then he’ll grow quiet,
engrossed, until he finishes his analysis of every photo, every adventure. In
his mind, he’ll insert himself in these pictures. He’ll pass the issue on to you
and grill you about your dreams and competitively ask about the craziest thing
you’ve ever done. Tell him. And know that he’ll probably win. And if by chance
you win, know that his next lot in life will be to out do you. But then he’ll
say, “Maybe we can do it together.”
Date
the boy who talks of distant places and whose hands have explored the stone
relics of ancient civilizations and whose mind has imagined those hands carving,
chiseling, painting the wonders of the world. And when he talks, it’s as if he’s
reliving it with you. You can almost hear his heart racing. You can almost feel
the adrenaline ramped up by the moment. You feel it passing through his
synapsis, a feast to his eyes entering through those tiny oracles of experience
that we call pupils, digesting rapidly through his veins, manifesting into his
nervous system, transforming and altering his worldview like a reverse trauma
and finally passing, but forever changing the colors of his sight. (Unless
he’s Karl Pilkington.) You will want this
too.
Date a boy who’s lived out of a backpack because
he lives happily with less. A boy who’s travelled has seen poverty and dined
with those who live in small shanty’s with no running water, and yet welcome
strangers with greater hospitality than the rich. And because he’s seen this,
he’s seen how a life without luxury can mean a life fueled by relationships and
family, rather than a life that fuels fancy cars and ego. He’s experienced
different ways of being, respects alternative religions and he looks at the
world with the eyes of a five-year-old, curious and hungry. Your dad will be
happy too because he’s good with money and knows how to budget.
This boy relishes home; the comfort of a duvet,
the safety stirred in a mom-cooked meal, the easy conversation of childhood
friends, and the immaculate glory of the flush-toilet. Although fiercely
independent, he has had time to reflect on himself and his relationships.
Despite his wanderlust, he knows and appreciates his ties to home. He has had a
chance to miss and be missed. Because of this, he also knows a thing or two
about goodbyes. He knows the overwhelming uncertainty of leaving the comforts of
home, the indefinite see-you-laters at the departure gates, and yet he
fearlessly goes into the unknown because he knows the feeling of return. And
that the I’ve-missed-you-hug is the best type of hug in the whole world. He also
knows that goodbyes are just prolonged see-you-laters and that ‘hello’ is only
as far away as the nearest internet cafe.
Don’t hold onto this boy. Let this boy go and go
with him. If you haven’t travelled, he will open your eyes to a world beyond the
news and popular perception. He will open your dreams to possibility and
reality. He will calm your nerves when you’re about to miss a flight or when
your rental blows a flat, because he knows the journey is the adventure. He will
make light of the unsavory noises you make when you – and you will – get food
poisoning. He will make you laugh through the discomfort all while dabbing your
forehead with a cold cloth and nursing you with bottled water. He will make you
feel like you’re home.
When you see something beautiful, he will hold
your hand in silence, in awh the history of where his feet stand, and the fact
that you’re with him.
He will live in every moment with you, because
this is how he lives his life. He understands that happiness is no more than a
string of moments that displace neutrality, and he is determined to tie as many
of these strings together as he can. He also understands your need to live for
yourself and that you have a bucketlist of your own. Understand his. Understand
that your goals may at some points differ, but that independence is the
cornerstone of a healthy relationship when it’s mutually respected. You may lose
him for a bit, but he will always come home bearing a new story and a souvenir
he picked up because it reminded him of you, like it was made for you, and
because he missed you. You might be compelled to do the same. Make sure that
independence is on your bucketlist, and make sure it’s checked. Independence
will keep your relationship fresh and exciting, and when you’re together again
it will forge a bond of unbreakable trust.
He’ll propose when you’ve breached your
comfort-zone, whether it be a fear like skydiving or swimming with sharks, or
sitting next to the smelly person on an overcrowded bus. It won’t be with a
diamond ring, but with a token from a native culture or inspired by nature, like
the penguin and the pebble.
You will get married somewhere unassumed,
surrounded by a select few, in a moment constructed to celebrate venturing into
the unknown together again. Marry the boy who’s travelled and together you will
make the whole world your home. Your honeymoon will not be forgotten to a buffet
dinner and all-you-can-drink beach bars, but will be remembered in the
triumphant photographs at the top of Kilimanjaro and memorialized in the
rewarding ache of muscles at the end of a long days hike.
When you’re ready, you will have children that
have the names of the characters you met on your journeys, the foreign names of
people who dug a special place in your heart if only for a few days. Perhaps you
will live in another country, and your children will learn of language and
customs that open their minds from the very start, leaving no room for
prejudice. He will introduce them to the life of Hemingway, the journey of
Santiago, and empower them to live even bigger than both of you.
Marry a boy who travels and he’ll teach your
children the beauty of a single stone, the history of the Incas and he will
instill in them the bravery of possibility. He will explain to them that masking
opportunity, there is fear. He will teach them to concur it.
And when you’re old, you’ll sit with your
grandchildren pouring over your photo albums and chest of worldly treasures,
while they too insert themselves into your photographs, sparked by the beauty of
the world and inspired by your life in it.
Find a boy who travels because you deserve a
life of adventure and possibility. You deserve to live light and embrace
simplicity. You deserve to look at life through the eyes of youth and with your
arms wide open. Because this is where you will find joy. And better, you will
find joy together. And if you can’t find him, travel. Go. Embrace it. Explore
the world for yourself because dreams are the stuff reality is made
from.
