海角大神

When I ask others about their travels, they normally respond with a list of sights and activities: the Eiffel Tower, a boat ride on the Thames, the Grand Canyon. I always listen respectfully and with quiet appreciation, while realizing that I seem to be wired differently. I love to travel, but I don鈥檛 do so to complete a checklist. Rather, I venture out to see what I can learn about myself.

For example, after I recently returned from Central America, someone asked me what I had seen. I don鈥檛 think I gave them the answer they were looking for when I replied, 鈥淚 missed a critical bus to a port city, so I hitchhiked with a man hauling garbage in his pickup. And I had to ride with the garbage. The experience taught me to remember to be grateful for favors offered.鈥�

My friend鈥檚 indulgent smile conveyed the message, 鈥淥h, you poor man.鈥�

But I鈥檓 not a poor man. If anything, I鈥檓 a student of the open road, where I鈥檝e learned that most people are helpful, kind, and curious about travelers. I鈥檝e also learned that necessity sometimes prods me to do something a bit out of character.聽

I realize that hitchhiking abroad (or at home) might appear risky to many people. And I suppose there is always an element of risk and unpredictability when engaging with strangers in strange lands. Having said this, there are also subtler ways than hitchhiking to experience self-revelation when traveling. Take cuisine, for example.聽

Some years ago, I went to a remote village in Honduras that rarely received outsiders. My 15-year-old son accompanied me. The poverty was striking, but so was the sense of community 鈥� the entire village came out singing as we arrived. Then they slew and cooked a chicken, which they set down before us. Knowing that I was a vegetarian, my son smiled and said, 鈥淪o what are you going to do now, Dad?鈥� The answer was clear: Eat the chicken. It wasn鈥檛 particularly easy to compromise my vegetarian principles. But faced with a gift of food so freely given, from people who had greater need of the chicken than I did, I dispensed with my orthodoxy and ate as the villagers looked on, nodding their approval.

I also think of my first visit to Iceland, where I went to spend a summer working on a farm. No one in the family spoke English, and my Icelandic was limited to a few pleasantries. But one can get a tremendous amount of mileage out of 鈥渢hank you鈥� (鈥�takk鈥�) and a smile. I discovered that this was the quickest way to endear people to me, and me to them.

The upshot is that I have never returned from a trip in which I didn鈥檛 learn something new about myself, or where I didn鈥檛 fortify a quality (flexibility, compromise, risk-taking) that needed reemphasizing.聽

On a recent outing with a dear friend, who shares the same travel sensibilities, I learned about my friend鈥檚 backpacking trip through France and Belgium. I listened patiently to his thoughtful reflections, and then I asked, 鈥淗ow do you think you grew as a person as a result of this experience?鈥�

He looked at me and said, 鈥淭hank you for that.鈥�

What ensued was a conversation meager in travelogue details, but rich with information about how the trip had yielded insights into my friend鈥檚 life path, his ability to think on his feet, and his interactions with the people he met.

There is wonder in viewing travel as an exercise in self-discovery. I have been at it for a long time, and there is still so much of the world to explore.聽

Now, where did I put that atlas?