Travel is a balm for my soul
I was in the back of a taxi on the winding roads of the Italian mountain side. The sun shone off the gleaming white hotels, home to the throng of tourists who show up every summer. Every now and then we would pass smaller, crumbling buildings, outside of which clothes on washing lines swayed gently in the breeze. Parents led children by the hand along the side of the busy road, cars and mopeds whizzing by, dangerously close. At junctions, vehicles shot out from every direction which suggested chaos but, in that moment, felt like pure poetry. We were on our way back from an outdoor adventure park, where I had scuffed my shins and cut my knee. I noticed I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. I leaned my head out of the window into the breeze. I’d never felt so content.
That night, we jumped into a rusty looking TukTuk to avoid the short walk back to our hotel. We willed it on as is chugged up the steep hillside, wondering how it was still in one piece. We probably should have been concerned by the black fumes pumping out of the struggling engine but we didn’t care.
I’m a different person when I’m abroad
I’m a different person when I travel. There’s just something about being in a foreign country that soothes me. It’s like the heat of the sun relaxes my neurosis and I throw all caution to the wind.
I kind of like this wild abandon. Without it, I would never have experienced the joy of sleeping on a catamaran, anchored off the Algarve coast. I’ll always remember the burnt orange sky as I watched the sun go down with my daughter from the deck. Hearing the fishermen as they headed out to work before the sun rose. Being lulled to sleep by the surrounding waves. Our only way back to shore was by kayak. The fact that I’m a poor swimmer and I’m terrified of deep water (and fish, especially the big bighty ones) seemed unimportant when considering the adventure of it all.
Travelling makes me braver. At home, I am generally anxious and going anywhere feels like an effort. Will there be parking? What if it’s busy? Do they have food? But over 10,000 miles away in Australia, I thought nothing of navigating the rail journey from Sydney to Katoomba so that we could experience the wonder of the Blue Mountains. Once there, we jumped on and off the explorer bus and walked for miles, eyes wide in awe. We waded in pools with cascading waterfalls and hiked under tress so tall we couldn’t see where they stopped. This, as part of a much larger road trip across New South Wales that I’d ambitiously researched, planned and booked.
Memories made
When I think about the places I’ve visited, it is the people I went with who come to mind. Cruising with my husband on our honeymoon or witnessing a friend’s wedding in Las Vegas. Teaching our daughter to ski in Norway and taking her to Lapland to meet Santa. Hurtling down Mount Vesuvius with her, laughing at my husband who was soaked in sweat and out of puff. Receiving a blessing from Mother Meera in Germany with my sisters. Exploring my Grandma’s childhood home in Northern Ireland with my dad and siblings. Zipping around the streets of Stockholm on an eScooter with my sister-in-law. Flying with her to New York to attend a weekend workshop with Eckhart Tolle (we got drunk at the airport and almost missed our flight buying Chanel sunglasses).
Watching my mum panic at even the toddler rides at Universal Studios and seeing her delight when it wasn’t scary (once). Running across the Disney World carpark in the pouring Florida rain while carrying my niece and loosing a flip-flop. Laughing at my husband and step-dad as they navigated the mini-bus dripping wet and shirtless, the rest of us gripping the sides of the seats in case we flipped over in the biggest storm I have ever seen.
Holidays with friends, watching the sunset in Ibiza or partying with Bears in Sitges. Swooning over our very angelic looking waiter, Gabriel. Cycling around Budapest. Climbing the same tower that Colin Farrell made famous in In Bruges. I could go on.
But I’m not that different
Of course it’s not always fun and games. Like the time we froze in Lanzarote because we didn’t check the weather and only took shorts. When my daughter was furious with Santa because all she wanted to do was play in the snow in Lapland. When our plane was turned around an hour into the flight because of a technical fault and I’d never prayed so hard in my life. Then the 5-hour wait for a new plane.
I might be different when I travel but I am still me. On our first day, every time, I promise never to travel again. I’m tired, I hate the hotel, I bicker with my husband. And when I’m abroad I still get hangry and stressed and I’m not very good at hiding it. But there’s rarely a time when I come back regretting a trip. Even when things aren’t perfect, there’s always a memory made, something to laugh about. Travel makes me brave, it make me happy and it brings me closer to the people I love.