I've done my fair share of luxury travel. I've done the all inclusive resorts, the five star hotels. The nightlife, the VIP section of the club, the bottles of Dom Pérignon. And sure, I had fun. But that's all it was, a bit of fun. That doesn't stay with you. I don't have much to say about those trips, all I got from them was a few Instagramable pictures. Nothing ever went wrong. There was no excitement, no adrenaline rush. Everything was so perfect, and looking back, that's what makes them so dull.
I'll never forget that journey to Vilanculos. I'll never forget how rewarding it felt when I finally got there. I'll never forget that walk on the beach I took a few hours later. Tears streaming down my face, questioning every choice I've made in life, examining every aspect of my character. Blaming myself, hating myself, doubting myself. Now there's a fucking memory. Those are the moments that will stick with me forever.
And yeah, those moments sucked at the time. I had a broken heart and a million regrets. But boy did I have a story to tell. It was the best trip of my life. I learnt more about myself in those two and a half weeks more than I have my whole life. I'd pick a trip like that over ten perfect trips any day. Because when you feel like you've reached the edge of your mental and physical limits, that's when things start getting interesting. You'll come face to face with who you are in the absence of comfort. I don't regret it, not one bit.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying be down in it every time you travel. You don't have to be miserable and in tears to discover new things about yourself. That was just my story. But if you do get lost in the middle of nowhere with no WiFi or end up in a sweltering hostel with a bed that feels like a brick, embrace it. You'll have a story to tell, and you've also taught yourself a new lesson. Like to download an offline map and to read reviews online before staying somewhere.
Take me for example. I got my phone stolen in a massive house rave in Maputo, few days before I was meant to fly back. I got ignored three times by the person I thought I could count on the most. My Airbnb host was in South Africa, so I couldn't ask her for help. There was no clock at the apartment and I didn't have a watch, so I had no idea what the time was in the day. The guard downstairs didn't speak a word of english, and all I could manage was 'tudo bem' and 'sal e limão'. Because of course the most important thing to learn in a foreign country is salt and lemon. How else would you order a tequila? No phone meant no map, no taxi, no alarm to wake me up in time for my flight, and no easing my mums worries by messaging her every hour of the day to tell her I'm alive and well and haven't been raped by a gang of Mozambicans.
In the end? A friend I made there lent me her sisters phone for a couple days. I was fine. Everything was fine.
The best part of it all? It shined a light on the kindness of strangers. By being vulnerable I saw the compassion in others. Like the time I was lost and had no idea where the buses that went to Vilanculos were. Again, I was rescued by a generous and warm hearted stranger. He walked with me for over thirty minutes. I will never forget him. Regular reminders of why you should have faith in humanity sure is good for the soul.
Try and willingly put yourself in situations where you have no idea how you're going to respond. Travel solo. Take chances. Go do something you've always wanted. Something you're passionate about. Even if it's hard. Even if you're scared. Because in the end things will turn out just fine. And you'll be glad you did it.
So you can keep your cabana beds, your hours of sunbathing under the blazing sun and your room service. I've been there, done that. I want the adrenaline rush, I want the danger, I want not knowing what's next. I've got a lot planned for this year. Just for me, no one else. I'm choosing my own adventure.
Table for one please.
No comments
Post a Comment