*And what they’re about to learn in this post
There are some things in this world that you never want to tell your grandma, no matter how much you can tell her. I love my grandma. She’s amazing. She was an army wife, traveling across Europe and Korea with four children while my grandpa was doing army stuff. She raised a family while my grandpa served in Vietnam. My other grandparents raised five children. They’ve all done a lot. I’ve done a lot. And I probably have my grandparents to thank for my nomadic urges.
(Actually, I know I do: if it weren’t for my grandpa “dragging us all across the world,” as my mother puts it, I’d never have the travel gene. Thanks!)
But there is so much about my life that they don’t know and are about to learn.
(Also, my parents. Hi Mom and Dad – no judging!)
I meet interesting people through… interesting… tactics. I once left a note on my neighbour’s car – I had never even seen him before – that said “you drive a Jager van. You must be interesting. I like adventures. Let’s hang out. [My number.]” I had never. met. him. I use Tinder and I go sailing with people I have never met until they pick me up on the boat. They’re pretty cool people, though, and you’ve met some of them.
Sometimes I’m unhappy, but I’ll never tell you. Also, sometimes I’m broke. Again, I’ll never tell you.
I will try anything once. Even things I know I shouldn’t do. Bicycle around Scotland without a helmet? Alright, let’s go. Cliff jump? Sure! Hitchhike? … Yeah! I don’t need you to tell me to be careful, I know I should be careful. but I’m doing to try it anyway. I thank my lucky stars that I’m not part of the helicopter-parent generation… I’m lucky that my parents let me try things for myself. And I’m going to keep doing it… it’s the only way to learn.
I don’t have plans. Surprised? That your logical, type-a, granddaughter doesn’t have a plan? I am too, honestly. But I learned pretty quickly out here on the road that a plan just hinders you. It holds you back from adventures, from new people. I don’t know where I will be next week. It makes making plans quite hard.
I don’t want to settle. There. I said it. You want me to get a “real job” and a “real life” and you think that this nomadicy is just “a phase.” Well, I’m here to break it to you: it’s not. It’s not a phase. It’s my life. It’s funny to say that out loud, you know. Because in a way, it is sort of a phase. It’s the phase I’m going through to figure out who I am and who I want to be, or don’t want to be. But the thing is, I want to turn this phase into a life. Into a life where I travel with my future family. I dream of my children being global-educated. You probably didn’t expect that one. Yes, I want children. I always have. I like them, the little brats, and I want some brats of my own to spoil. Not in the popular sense. I want to spoil my kids with trips around the world, with large-scale maps on their walls, with stories of my adventures when I was younger. I want to spoil them with languages, with new experiences. I want them to rack up frequent flier miles, have friends in foreign countries, and feel secure in their knowledge of our world.
I don’t want to be you. Or my parents. I love you all, but I want to be myself. And travel is helping me. I’m learning about myself and about the world at large, and I’m learning that you’re pretty closed-minded. I’m sorry. It’s not you, actually, it’s your generation. The generation that hates on everything, believes everything guilty until proven innocent – not the other way around. The generation that – unless people f***ing step up – is going to elect the Toupee as president.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It’s taken me a long time to figure out that being me is preferential to being someone that everyone else wants me to be. So, I’m not going to have the expansive apartment on the Upper West Side, I’m not going to have the picket fence and the 2.4 kids, I’m probably not ever going to have that corporate job that gives me two weeks of vacation and unpaid sick leave. What I’m doing now gives me 365 days of vacation because I love what I’m doing. Guess what? That’s totally okay with me! It may not be the “ideal” you had in mind for me but it’s pretty freaking ideal when I can take off to go sailing if the weather is nice or can leave for a hike on a moment’s notice.
I’m not coming home. At least, not anytime soon. I don’t have a plan for when my visa is up. But I have an idea. And it involves another stupid decision.
So, I make stupid decisions. I spend money on stupid things. I drink. I stay up late dancing to crappy music at backpacker bars with 21 year olds. But I work hard to make money so I can continue having adventures. Nothing you say can stop me from doing what it turns out that I love to do: keep moving.