A Brief Reflection

Coming home seems to have been almost as exhausting as backpacking itself. Five days in and I’m only just getting my thoughts together. Sure enough, there’s still plenty of excitement to go around, mostly in the form of beach soccer, beach fireworks and beach drinking.

Now I’m back in the Philly area, using it as a base for some mini-adventures before returning to DC. It’s strange to me how everything feels exactly as I left it, just much hotter. For some reason I’d expected things to seem drastically different and almost foreign to me. Instead it’s more like I’ve just woken up from a dream, my tour already feeling like a foggy creation in the back of my mind. Here I am simply continuing along as I always have.

I imagine a lot of the fog comes from just how intense the trip was. While on any individual day I could explore at my leisure, overall I crammed a lot into a fairly short amount of time: 

11 countries, 30 cities
~200 hours of biking
~100 different beers, and as many liters
Unknown hours of aimless exploring

And, of course, the people. Everybody I met was living an impressively unique life. For a light sample, I’ve hung out with two traveling musicians, a beekeeper, a physicist, a lawyer, actors, bankers and, above all, wanderers. 

A lot happened. Quirky details, strange contexts and new ideas are all swirling about. I used to feel as if my travel world and home world existed separately from each other. But now they are blending together. Everything is foggy and confused, but I can see the familiar with a fresh sensation and feel the new as if it were home. So, although I can separate my experiences into segments like the past four months it really is just becoming one grand adventure.

Moving Along

One of the most stunning movies I’ve seen (and I’ll eventually read the book, too) is Life of Pi. Though the context could hardly be more different, it’s still a story of personal transformation and self-discovery. I could write an entire post about this, but there’s one quote that I find particularly relevant today:

“I suppose, in the end, the whole of life becomes an act of letting go…” - Adult Pi Patel

We release certain inhibitions that keep us within our comfort zones; we let go of our former selves, the world we know and people we love. Sometimes it’s for survival and sometimes to thrive.

At times, travel can seem like an accelerated version of such. Just as you accustom yourself to a new place, learn its streets and feel its pulse, it’s time to start again. People flow through your life faster than you usually meet them. Memories pile into your brain so quickly they blur and merge. And every trip comes to a close.

Technically, anyway.

I wrote that paragraph upon leaving Switzerland, sad to have to leave yet another close friend and wonderful place behind (this is resurfacing with my friend here in Vienna). Brooding over the flight home that was rapidly approaching (and is now under 24 hours from now), I had considered it an end-point of fun and excitement; the next page in life would be a return to drudgery and monotony.

But that didn’t seem right. Home is hardly devoid of joy and excitement. Indeed, I love living in Philly/DC. So the journey is far from over. Instead I’m just going to a different place yet again. It’s another section of a long, continuous adventure that’s only over when I stop pursuing it.

Just as when day turns to night, life does not disappear but renews its romance

Thinking about it further, everything I do after returning to the States will be a result of these experiences. I’ve built ideas and clarified others along the way that will guide me through future decisions. Plus, I’ll have these memories as motivators to continue the adventure, as well as to cherish along the way.

And Rocinante to remind me of it all

So while, physically, you must move on from everything, your experiences will always remain an influential part of your persona. Just as Pi (in context of his quote) must let go of Richard Parker, his family and so on, they continue to be a part of his life. I’ve parted ways with dozens of friends and left behind enchanting locales. Tomorrow I break with my current path, but also realize that it’s part of the eternally growing foundation of the rest of my life.

In that sense, letting go isn’t so bad.

So jump in and enjoy the ride

It's a Big Small World

A quick update from Salzburg, home of classical music and troublesome nuns:

And dramatic statues

I have now crossed my final border, and only one destination remains between myself and the fast-approaching return to the States. For some time I had called this the “end” of my trip. But now I’m changing my outlook. Instead, I just view it as a major shift in my journey. At the very least it’s helping me keep up the sense of adventure as long as possible.

Wide-eyed excitement in action

Thus I set out from Zurich one last time towards Austria. I struggled my way up hill after hill, wondering for hours how many more there could be before I found Lake Constance. Eventually, finally, I reached a peak and saw only downward slopes towards the shores of this multinational body of water, and let gravity pull my bike towards the water. Thankfully my brakes held out through the descent, but it only took one errant pedestrian along the beach for the front cable to snap.

Whoops

Consequently, the final 50 kilometers were rather slow, fearing the back would follow suit. But it allowed me to better enjoy the seaside feel of the lake’s visitors. Then I left Switzerland behind and endured a very trying border control…

It must have taken at least 30 seconds for people to get out of the way

And, despite pressing hunger, a crippled bike and a very sore butt, this reminded me why cycle touring is so wonderful:

In no other way can you truly feel the place you’re in than by cycling through it (or walking, if you’re particularly ambitious). Admittedly, trains and cars are useful if you’re behind schedule. But it’s by wandering slowly through the area with foot power, that makes me feel alive. 

Hiking through the mountains and biking along these paths that stretch to infinity remind me just how small I am. Something about that is absolutely thrilling.

From the Tip of the Tongue

My surprise detour has come and gone. Now I find myself back in Switzerland, nursing sore legs and gasping all over again as I share my photos with friends. In short: impulsive decisions can have epic results.

Kym, the fellow traveler who roped me into this quest, had found a house in a small village nestled into the fjords outside of Bergen. Before I arrived she and the rest of the group had already befriended some students at a music school down the street. Once I showed up they took us on a very comical boat ride towards a small island out in the icy blue water. With one faulty and one missing rowlock, we mostly spun the boat in circles, taking far longer to get anywhere than the Norwegians expected. On the return leg, struggling against the wind, we took so long that a neighbor with a motorboat came out and towed us back to our cove. Though we returned to land at 11:30, it didn’t matter because the sun had only just dipped below the mountains. Just think of all the things you could do with only four hours of nighttime.

We also had a canoe. That worked much better

"Our" island

Who can't row and talk on the phone at the same time? 

Notice the twine holding the oar down

If he hadn't shown up, we might still be out there

Our proud vessel

This is the darkest it got

Monday, though, was the focal point and the reason for this whole excursion: a grueling, 22 kilometer hike to Trolltunga, The Troll’s Tongue. Along with trekking in Torres del Paine (Chilean Patagonia), this turned out to be one of the more difficult and incredible experiences of my life. While the distance itself isn’t terrible (half-marathon length), the terrain is unfriendly at best. The path crosses through boulder fields, down steep sheets of rock and over melting glaciers. Thus, you always have to watch your step for risk of slipping, catching your foot, or just falling through the snow (though there’s a cool stream to catch you underneath). That’s not to mention the first, and therefore final, kilometer is this:

3,197 rickety steps. Notice how much steeper it gets in the distance

I happened to be one of those whose foot suddenly didn't have ground beneath it

Everything that makes the trek perilous is what makes it wondrous. Remote and difficult to reach, it’s relatively unspoiled, so as we took a break (nap) on one outcrop, I heard nothing but the wind dancing over us.

Considering the landmark’s name, the scenery fits. It looks like the place a troll would inhabit: wild and unforgiving. The scenery rewards you the whole way, and the effort you put into reaching it makes it that much more fulfilling.

Of course, the whole trail is scenic. But the highlight is, as you’d expect, the Tongue itself. It’s hidden behind the hills until just before you reach it. Then it’s there, and all you can say is “wow”.

Or, "Oh my god don't do that so close to the edge"

Oddly enough, nobody else thought to picnic there

A slightly crazy Norwegian brought Kym and me to this semi-secret angle via a difficult climb down from the plateau.

Had to climb between this rock and hard place to get the angle. Not shown: the narrow ledge and sharp drop off just beyond my toes. I dared not look down.

While it’s pretty cliche to implore that you go with whatever feels right or wherever the wind takes you, there’s a reason behind it. If these are the experiences you wish for and save up towards, you have to recognize the opportunity to realize them; it might not come when you expect it. But if it’s there, and you can take it, no matter how nervous you might be or unprepared you might feel, it’ll pay off. You never know where this kind of spontaneity may lead, but I would guarantee it’ll be one of the most positive and memorable decisions you make.

You'll get some cool pictures at the very least

A Bit of Spontaneity

One of the more entertaining aspects of describing my trip before I left was how little I had planned out between London and Vienna. Many caring people were shocked, even a bit worried, about my leaving so much to chance and my lack of organization. While there are definite benefits to having a plan, I felt that would limit me with the ambitions that govern this trip. This has worked for the best in plenty of minor events and allowed me to carve out the best time for my Balkan side trip. But the next four days will really epitomize this ideal that I laid out in the beginning. In fact, it may well be a culmination of these numerous minor events building into something grand.

Four days ago, I booked a flight to Bergen, Norway with about ten minutes' deliberation.

A friend I made in Zagreb, and now a bit of a role model in my travel career aspirations, was organizing a hiking trip to this area as we lounged in the garden. Upon mentioning my aspirations to one day see Norway, she quickly invited me along. What was stopping me?

I quickly realized that this was exactly the moment I wasn't planning for: changing course on a whim because of a stranger's recommendation. Short of racing across India in a rickshaw, this is adventure at its finest. What makes this even more fitting is the fact that we'll be hiking to Trolltunga, The Troll's Tongue - one of the most surreal places to visit (according to the trustworthy Internet). And I've already established how strongly that sensation attracts me.

So I found a cheap enough flight that the only thing to stop me would be myself. I returned to Zurich for a couple days, arranged things with my magnificently hospitable hosts and am now writing from my iPod in the Frankfurt airport. It feels  pretty damn awesome. This is where I am truly in my element.

Local Personalities

So quickly, I’ve already brought my Balkan adventure full circle, returning to Zagreb after getting a taste of what the region has to offer. From Belgrade I took the night train to Sofia, Bulgaria to visit even more friends from last year’s Indonesia Arts and Culture Scholarship. Just like in Belgrade, my hosts treated me to an in-depth experience of many aspects of local life. Yan gave me a full tour of the city, including historical facts, important places and his favorite bars, which we tried later on. For culture, of course.

The experience also ranged from a rowdy Bulgaria vs. Serbia volleyball match to a serene day in the countryside. I met Yan’s friends and family, ate grandmother cooked food and, of course, learned an Indonesian dance at the embassy. IACS will have a hold on me for a long time, I feel.

Just before the start

One of the most noticeable parts of seeing the world is experiencing the enthusiasm locals have for their homes. It gives meaning to what could otherwise just be a generic place. Such a love is what turns a location into a destination.

Tour guide Yan and his lovely Sofia

 I think working as a tour guide in DC helped me see this (or made me take so long to notice, depending on your perspective). It’s what made my job so exciting, helping people to understand the “why” of a certain place. That’s what I’ve been sure to discover with every place I visit here, and my hosts have gone over the top to show what is so special about their homes.

Thankfully Yan didn't go so far as to join the guide turf war inside this very, very tiny (but remarkable) 10th century church filled with frescoes that I couldn't photograph

It’s inspiring to see how every little corner of the world has such a unique personality worth discovering. From snack foods (provided by Irina’s boyfriend) to historical figures (pretty much everyone in this Koprivshtitsa, Bulgaria) those little things that locals enthusiastically share as part of themselves add up into something beautiful. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I’ve been walking around in a constant state of awe and wonder, in part due to this. Seeing people so lovingly share their lives has further enhanced that starry-eyed idealism I mentioned at the beginning of the trip, and has energized me to do this when I return home.

Koprivshtitsa: home of Bulgarian independence, symbolic root of their strong spirit

So I’m always sad to leave a place that has won my affection, but equally excited to discover what the next destination has to offer, and the personality that goes along with it. 

Photo credit: Yan and his ever-ready selfie mode

The People You Meet

Yet another quirk of traveling that I absolutely love is discovering how easy it is to befriend people. This is more than have a basic conversation, but having meaningful connections with those who were strangers just five minutes prior. It is, of course, possible at home, but the barrier feels so much lower when everybody seems to find themselves in the same boat (even literally in some cases).

My entire week in Zagreb embodied this. “Where are you from?” and travel plans quickly evolved into civil conversations around politics, philosophy and other normally divisive themes. There is an infinite wealth of perspectives to learn from.

This carries into my current visit to Belgrade, Serbia. I’m visiting two more friends from IACS last year; people that I bonded with quickly despite only having a short amount of time with them. Yet Ana and Irina here (plus Yan in Bulgaria next week) are my entire reason for pursuing this side trip.

Which of course called for a celebratory selfie

Just like in the hostel garden, I’ve been up late talking to new people and discovering new views. I’ve discovered Serbians to be especially sociable and startlingly easy to befriend (or I’m just that awesome). As a result, we’re quick to share whatever comes to mind, celebrating all of our differences and similarities. The conversation only slows down when somebody (usually me) falls asleep on the table. Now that I can take the time to reflect on it (it’s been near constant motion and interaction) I do think that even the most unexpected people can make a deep connection. And it’s in a far shorter time that one would expect.

Whether you never see each other after one night or visit someone years later in other countries, whether you can remember an individual or a general sensation, all of these connections are the foundation of travel and home. They’ll bring you to places you never expected. Had I not befriended the Balkan participants last year, I likely would not have made such a detour on this trip. Those travelers I spoke with in the hostel garden and the Serbians here will greatly influence my future travels in some way. The best part, all it really takes is a friendly introduction. The story can go anywhere from there.

Symbolism