The highlights of travel that make their way onto Instagram feeds and Facebook timelines can go a long way in demonstrating the spectacular sights and views on the road, but too often they fail to capture the magic experienced on the other side of the camera – in the people met along the journey. Lost in the world wonders, the wild animals, and the panoramas are the relationships forged with people that instantly become some of your closest friends, even if you may never see them again.
Meandering along the backpacker trail, you’re bound to meet travelers from every corner of the globe, some more often than others. The odds are your hostel will contain at least one or two English, Dutch, and German travelers. Europe, western moreso than eastern, is very well represented, however, the Americas aren’t too far behind, as you’ll find a few Americans, a lot more Canadians, some “Canadians” that are actually American, but are either too ashamed or too tired of answering questions about Donald Trump to claim their homeland, and a fair share of Brazilians, Argentinians, and Chileans. Numbers dwindle for travelers from African and Middle Eastern nations, though I did meet a Ugandan, some South Africans, and a Moroccan, as well as plenty of Israelis and an Iranian or two. Each nationality brings a different energy, different methods of travel, and different perspectives. Every evening in the common area, rooftop deck, or hostel bar is a mini United Nations conference, where the discussion ranges from politics to pop culture, and drinking habits to lessons in dirty language.
Often times, common room chats can turn into the same boring conversations over and over that weary travelers can recite by heart without really caring or paying a lick of attention to the answers on the other end. I’ve been guilty of not being present in many conversations, but there were a few interactions on this trip that really stuck with me that I’d like to share:
I sat down in a café in Byron Bay, Australia to catch up on some emails and blogs, and overheard a conversation about building a resume. I decided to chime in with my two cents, which led to an extended grammar editing and chat session with an aspiring fashion marketing digital artist. Born in Tehran, Iran, she’d been arrested dozens of times, for crimes as simple as wearing or buying fabrics that were deemed too flashy for a woman. During her final stint in jail for yet another miniscule non-offense, she was in a cell with someone set to be executed, who’d committed murder. It was then that she finally fled the country, multiple name changes and all, to gain an education in England. Now in Australia, degree in hand, she was travelling the world, following her passion in the fashion design world. Against every possible obstacle, she was fulfilling her destiny. I hope I helped her land that gig, she earned it.
I began hiking the Milford Track in New Zealand and quickly jumped out front of everyone to have as much alone time with nature as possible. Not five minutes later, a gentleman in his 60’s came barreling past me, with more pep in his step than I could ever think of having. An Australian fish surveyor, he’d been waiting his entire life to walk the track, with the cards finally all falling into place this year. The man exuded a contagious energy and zest for life and nature that you couldn’t help but appreciate. I struggle to remember any point in time during our conversations where I didn’t have a smile on my face, enjoying his animated stories and outlook on life. He stayed up later and rose in the morning before everyone else on the trek. He out-climbed people half his age, yet at times stayed back with those older than him, providing welcome encouragement and jovial conversation to distract from the, at times brutal, hiking. I smile each and every time I think back to hiking and lodging with that energetic, goofy, genuine, enthusiastic man that could have easily been my dad. Life was good to him, because he was good to life.
I sat waiting for my 2-hour taxi ride to a remote bus station outside Yangon, Myanmar, and began striking up conversation with some fellow travelers on the same route. The Dallas police shooting was on the television, and after word got out that I was American, the conversation took an unfortunate political turn toward gun control. In my attempts to explain the intricacies of the gun debate in the USA, I was bombarded, then completely shut off, by a Dutch guy with a large headband pulling back his mohawk, sporting parachute pants and a ripped shirt that most likely hadn’t been washed in quite some time. We happen to be in the same shared taxi, where the conversation centered around his experiences tripping on ayahuasca and some homemade concoction of the psychedelic called DMT. Suffice to say, our paths were not likely to cross anywhere in our daily lives except for right there on the backpacker trail in Myanmar. A week later, after crossing over and back through most of the tourist trail, our goodbye was one of the more heartfelt and genuine of all I’ve had on this trip. Our sense of adventure and appreciation for both man’s creations and mother nature’s serenity helped form a bond, a bromance you might say, that made exploring the temples of Bagan, the rolling hills of Kalaw, and the vastness of Inle Lake all that much more enjoyable. When you stop taking yourself, your country, and your opinions so seriously, so many doors open up to friendships and experiences that await. I could have easily shut off the parachute pant Dutchman after our first couple conversations, but I would have missed out on one of the more genuine friendships I’ve experienced in quite some time. I’ll let you draw the analogies…
I’d be remiss to speak of the wonderful people along the way without mentioning the locals. A true travel experience is most certainly lacking without interaction with the people that every day live their lives in your tourist destination. Conversations with the local people brings an insight that’s left out of guidebooks and hostel common rooms. I did my best to interact with the locals wherever I went, whether they were familiar faces or not. Beers in Brisbane, seaside hikes in Sydney, dinner and drinks in the alleys of Melbourne, hunting stories with New Zealand shuttle drivers, Filipino family birthdays on the beach, heart to hearts with Thai shipwreck survivors turned moped taxi drivers, family feasts with Vietnamese friends of friends of friends, English lessons with eager students in Myanmar, conversations with chatty Monks wandering around pagodas, and turning into a medic on a far-too crowded Indian train made for instances where, for those small moments in time, living like a local and living like a traveler became one in the same.
As with every travel experience, I was fortunate enough to meet dozens of people that left their imprint on both my trip and my perspective on life.
I can only hope I’ve done the same.