I’m not even recovering—I’m simply a travel addict! Sometimes I long for the routine of home, but other times I’m suffocated by it. In those moments, as corny as it sounds, I try the ol’ “tourist in my city” trick: putting things on the calendar to look forward to, like new restaurants, museum exhibits, hikes. I love the novelty of travel, and giving that as a gift to myself at home is vital for my mental health.
Samantha, this is the first article of yours that I'm reading, but it's so real! I'm starting to think about wrapping up a year-long travel sabbatical, and what it will feel like to go home. I often think about how I'm applauded for being brave, when honestly I really just couldn't bear the thought about making decisions about what to do, where to live, and all those other pesky things after a job layoff. A year of living in my travel addiction has made me think of it in similar ways -- it's not always worth it to take 'just another hit.' How do you think this realization has changed the way you travel?
I went cold turkey on air travel back on April 30, 2006, after traveling 4 or 5 million miles. I've flown a couple times since, but only within my country. The TSA regime finally pushed me over the edge and it was no longer worth the hassle.
Now I do my travel on foot. I started at the Mexico border on March 5 and should be to the Canadian border in late September/early October. It's a grand way see the world!
Your insightful piece reminded me of myself long ago. Though I wasn’t a travel addict, I was depressed. I was also a native Californian who was certain just getting away from my “boring” hometown and parents would cure what ailed me. I remember seeking escape in various ways, with travel actually being quite helpful, but only for a day or two because, as you say, wherever you go, there you are. You can’t detach yourself from yourself. When this truth finally hit me was one summer in the glorious Berkshire mountains in western Massachusetts where I was working as a counselor at a music camp. I was as miserable as could be amid unspeakable beauty. I felt cheated, but I knew what was wrong: me.
I'm working on an essay right now, with the working title "The Idea of California." It, the draft anyway, starts like this: "Under the covers late at night, I fell in love with the idea of California." Mirror worlds!
I grew up in the UK and I, too, had to get away, moving first to Holland for six years, then New Jersey for twenty-five (how did that happen?), then this island in Puget Sound, already a dozen years. I've finally stopped running, and instead started working on my problems. I have no desire to go back to the UK. This place has adopted me. It's my forever home.
I'll be in California next week. I still love the idea of it.
The essay, by the way, is for a travel writing workshop. We've received over a dozen reading assignments over the past few weeks, published articles in magazines. Honestly, I'd rather read you!
When I returned from Australia in 1982 after having gone there to finish high school as an exchange student, I was absolutely devastated.
I didn't want to be back in suburban Denver with two parents who pretty much loathed each other. I wanted to be back in Australia where I had felt the most "me."
I'm lucky because I've never struggled with depression, but I still relate to so much of what you say...
“It would be many years before I’d come to understand that the presence of happiness and the lack of sadness are not the same thing.” — This line hit home, and it also relates to your question. One thing that has helped me accept all parts of myself, even the neurotic parts, is confronting the darkness head-on rather than trying to push it down and escape from it. Once I learned what a third-culture kid was, many things clicked for me. I realized I wasn't so weird and alone and that the parts of myself I was taught to hate were characteristics many other people raised in various cultural environments have had to deal with as well.
Hi, I'm David. I'm a travel addict. I'm now re-settled in my hometown and I'm in recovery. What helps me is this old saying: "Wherever you go, there you are!"
This made me smile in a wry sort of knowing way, because my place where I close my eyes and transport? It's my old Friday morning off walk in college along the beach from Venice to Santa Monica. In California.
Wholeheartedly agree. I was a travel junkie in my 20s, trying to fill up some gauge of happiness with each new place. When I lived in Eastern Europe teaching English I hit bottom and started to hate travel. Since then I’ve recovered, learning to love LIFE in the now regardless of where I’m at. Good news is I still travel and live abroad but my mindset is different so I can actually enjoy what I do now. Thanks for the thoughtful piece !
Fee you - after most of my life traveling to and from parents homes in different parts of the state and following my career to really amazing places in the countryside of the USA, I now long to be “home”. I find myself following again the old patterns of traveling to where family is - to the places that feel familiar. This Sagittarius needs to go to pasture and enjoy being home. And first, I need to define where that is and how I can make it work. Knowing this feels right. Good luck gal, I hope the next adventure finds a lightness of being!
As a fellow traveler, I related very strongly to much of what you said. While growing up on a ranch in Montana, I spent hours and hours reading about other countries--in encyclopedias, National Geographics and any other books I could lay my hands on. I studied foreign languages as soon as I could, lived in several countries, and ended up marrying two Europeans (one from Holland, one from Austria). To this day, my passion to explore and experience other countries and cultures has never left me.
When you wrote about visiting Paris as a teenager, the words from an old WWI song came to me:
"How you going to keep them down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"
Your first experience in Paris changed you, opened your eyes to new ways of living and being in the world, and there was no way to put the new you back into the old box. And I would argue that every place you live in today is doing the same thing.
This is why I would disagree with your conclusion when you say:
"I don’t go to Paris in my head anymore. I go to real places—not to run from life, but to experience it in its most concentrated distillate. I do this as an act of self-love, of self-acceptance. I no longer care that a change in scenery will not make me someone else, and I think that is the best I can hope for."
Maybe the depression is still with you. This is an issue I am not qualified to comment on--even though both of my daughters have suffered from the same challenge as well.
But you--as a whole person--are constantly expanding and growing every time you move to a new country. Your first-hand understanding of people and cultures grows exponentially, and your writing just gets better and better. Clearly, you are an amazing, talented and heart-full young woman with wonderful stories to tell and a glowing future as an author!
Ahhhh I love this. I definitely get a massive high from planning and then exploring somewhere new and different and only having the choice of what I can carry. I’ve long thought a year in France would solve a lot of problems but I also know running away rarely does. Thanks for sharing. Your description of Europe was so evocative 🥰🥰🥰
I’m not even recovering—I’m simply a travel addict! Sometimes I long for the routine of home, but other times I’m suffocated by it. In those moments, as corny as it sounds, I try the ol’ “tourist in my city” trick: putting things on the calendar to look forward to, like new restaurants, museum exhibits, hikes. I love the novelty of travel, and giving that as a gift to myself at home is vital for my mental health.
Samantha, this is the first article of yours that I'm reading, but it's so real! I'm starting to think about wrapping up a year-long travel sabbatical, and what it will feel like to go home. I often think about how I'm applauded for being brave, when honestly I really just couldn't bear the thought about making decisions about what to do, where to live, and all those other pesky things after a job layoff. A year of living in my travel addiction has made me think of it in similar ways -- it's not always worth it to take 'just another hit.' How do you think this realization has changed the way you travel?
I went cold turkey on air travel back on April 30, 2006, after traveling 4 or 5 million miles. I've flown a couple times since, but only within my country. The TSA regime finally pushed me over the edge and it was no longer worth the hassle.
Now I do my travel on foot. I started at the Mexico border on March 5 and should be to the Canadian border in late September/early October. It's a grand way see the world!
Your insightful piece reminded me of myself long ago. Though I wasn’t a travel addict, I was depressed. I was also a native Californian who was certain just getting away from my “boring” hometown and parents would cure what ailed me. I remember seeking escape in various ways, with travel actually being quite helpful, but only for a day or two because, as you say, wherever you go, there you are. You can’t detach yourself from yourself. When this truth finally hit me was one summer in the glorious Berkshire mountains in western Massachusetts where I was working as a counselor at a music camp. I was as miserable as could be amid unspeakable beauty. I felt cheated, but I knew what was wrong: me.
Ah, Sam.
I'm working on an essay right now, with the working title "The Idea of California." It, the draft anyway, starts like this: "Under the covers late at night, I fell in love with the idea of California." Mirror worlds!
I grew up in the UK and I, too, had to get away, moving first to Holland for six years, then New Jersey for twenty-five (how did that happen?), then this island in Puget Sound, already a dozen years. I've finally stopped running, and instead started working on my problems. I have no desire to go back to the UK. This place has adopted me. It's my forever home.
I'll be in California next week. I still love the idea of it.
The essay, by the way, is for a travel writing workshop. We've received over a dozen reading assignments over the past few weeks, published articles in magazines. Honestly, I'd rather read you!
When I returned from Australia in 1982 after having gone there to finish high school as an exchange student, I was absolutely devastated.
I didn't want to be back in suburban Denver with two parents who pretty much loathed each other. I wanted to be back in Australia where I had felt the most "me."
I'm lucky because I've never struggled with depression, but I still relate to so much of what you say...
“It would be many years before I’d come to understand that the presence of happiness and the lack of sadness are not the same thing.” — This line hit home, and it also relates to your question. One thing that has helped me accept all parts of myself, even the neurotic parts, is confronting the darkness head-on rather than trying to push it down and escape from it. Once I learned what a third-culture kid was, many things clicked for me. I realized I wasn't so weird and alone and that the parts of myself I was taught to hate were characteristics many other people raised in various cultural environments have had to deal with as well.
Hi, I'm David. I'm a travel addict. I'm now re-settled in my hometown and I'm in recovery. What helps me is this old saying: "Wherever you go, there you are!"
This made me smile in a wry sort of knowing way, because my place where I close my eyes and transport? It's my old Friday morning off walk in college along the beach from Venice to Santa Monica. In California.
Wholeheartedly agree. I was a travel junkie in my 20s, trying to fill up some gauge of happiness with each new place. When I lived in Eastern Europe teaching English I hit bottom and started to hate travel. Since then I’ve recovered, learning to love LIFE in the now regardless of where I’m at. Good news is I still travel and live abroad but my mindset is different so I can actually enjoy what I do now. Thanks for the thoughtful piece !
Have you ever read about the Victorian-era single-lady traveler Isabella Bird? She was also sick and depressed at home. Travel was her only cure.
Fee you - after most of my life traveling to and from parents homes in different parts of the state and following my career to really amazing places in the countryside of the USA, I now long to be “home”. I find myself following again the old patterns of traveling to where family is - to the places that feel familiar. This Sagittarius needs to go to pasture and enjoy being home. And first, I need to define where that is and how I can make it work. Knowing this feels right. Good luck gal, I hope the next adventure finds a lightness of being!
Dear Sam,
As a fellow traveler, I related very strongly to much of what you said. While growing up on a ranch in Montana, I spent hours and hours reading about other countries--in encyclopedias, National Geographics and any other books I could lay my hands on. I studied foreign languages as soon as I could, lived in several countries, and ended up marrying two Europeans (one from Holland, one from Austria). To this day, my passion to explore and experience other countries and cultures has never left me.
When you wrote about visiting Paris as a teenager, the words from an old WWI song came to me:
"How you going to keep them down on the farm after they've seen Paree?"
Your first experience in Paris changed you, opened your eyes to new ways of living and being in the world, and there was no way to put the new you back into the old box. And I would argue that every place you live in today is doing the same thing.
This is why I would disagree with your conclusion when you say:
"I don’t go to Paris in my head anymore. I go to real places—not to run from life, but to experience it in its most concentrated distillate. I do this as an act of self-love, of self-acceptance. I no longer care that a change in scenery will not make me someone else, and I think that is the best I can hope for."
Maybe the depression is still with you. This is an issue I am not qualified to comment on--even though both of my daughters have suffered from the same challenge as well.
But you--as a whole person--are constantly expanding and growing every time you move to a new country. Your first-hand understanding of people and cultures grows exponentially, and your writing just gets better and better. Clearly, you are an amazing, talented and heart-full young woman with wonderful stories to tell and a glowing future as an author!
Searingly honest and insightful. Samantha.
Yes. This resonates. Always searching for the next high.
Ahhhh I love this. I definitely get a massive high from planning and then exploring somewhere new and different and only having the choice of what I can carry. I’ve long thought a year in France would solve a lot of problems but I also know running away rarely does. Thanks for sharing. Your description of Europe was so evocative 🥰🥰🥰