Laying the foundations for true travel satisfaction
How I battled egotism to achieve stress-free backpacking.
Within 15 months of solo travel, I spent much time thinking about how to squeeze the absolute most out of every moment away. "Not a second should be wasted, or I'll return to home-life mundanity bloated by regret," I constantly reminded myself.
Every waking hour had to be geared towards extracting some sort of story to tell, whether it'd be shared over a drink, through Instagram snaps or on a blog post.
By no means was I go-go-go - some hostels knew me as the notorious napper - but down-time was merely a required reset, a means to soon slurping every last drop from the bottom of the day's cup.
After my first hitch-hiking experience - through Iceland in May 2023 - I took a step away from this moment-maximisation mentality. In the family group chat, I proudly remarked that I'd no longer give updates on where I was, who I'd met or what I was doing. On the same day, I wiped my Instagram account, jumping the fence of addiction and snootily pitching up camp in social ghost-ville.
This partly stemmed from sincerely wanting to live the time as presently as possible. Reflecting now though, these were acts veiling a desire to be seen by others in a certain way. "Mysterious", "contrarian", "better than everyone else". Call it what you will.
And not only that, they were also acts that I hoped would have me alight the plane at Melbourne Airport to wild hordes of friends, family and cult-of-Harper followers, all aching to know, minute by minute, just what exactly I'd been up to during all this time away and "off-grid".
Particularly from Iceland onwards, I assumed the character of a collector of stories, eagerly awaiting the day I'd get home and spill every bean to every ear in reach.
Arrogant? Absolutely. But without doubt I had some incredible experiences that I likely wouldn’t have without this guiding motivation.
Hitch-hiking and couch-surfing from Germany to Turkey, my head was further inflated by the unbelievable generosity and curiosity of the many who opened their car and house doors to me, city slickers and village dwellers alike. I wasn’t hanging out with too many fellow tourists, so the people I did meet were often stunned that such an adventurer could possibly have come into their lives.
"You're from Australia??? Why on earth are you staying here in Duzhnaguzhnaborg???"
I'd enlighten the wonderers on my wandering, outlining the odyssey whilst making best efforts to appear humble. But I spent so much time alone with my ego, abhorring the supposed banality and futility of lives back home, that deep down, I saw many of those I came across as simply side characters in my self-absorbed quest to be someone with good stories for the grandkids.
Maybe I'm just terribly unaware, but I don't think this self-centredness came out so overtly. My charm skills skyrocketed during this time and I definitely held genuine interest in the lives of these folks, for sure injecting some happiness and wonder into the heart of many a world-weary middle-ager. Yet, at least somewhat, my viewing of them as means to an end can now tie me into a state of unease.
When talking about myself with others, the conversation would often be tinged with a tone of “I’m living the best life one could possibly live” and “you should be like me”. Activities were pursued for the story and status that’d follow.
The shift that came after can’t be pinned down to any one moment, rather a natural maturing that I’m now profoundly thankful for.
Gradually, and particularly when I did reach Turkey 100 days after setting off there, I came to realise that people care far, far less about me and my stories than I’d thought. And what a great thing that is! It liberated me and, totally commitment-free at this time, allowed me to enjoy every moment for what it was. It continues to do so.
By the time I went to the mindfulness mecca of Nepal, the leash was well and truly cut. Being open to everything but not for the sake of the story, I took in so much more and, from these experiences, rode the purity of every emotional wave far more profoundly.
People enjoyed my company more, I revelled in theirs and, like drug-drenched hippies but without a spliff in sight, we all soaked up the bliss of this simple, moment-to-moment lifestyle.
You may read all of this and interpret the arc as one of natural development, which it is. After all, what personal growth can be labelled unnatural? The pre-Nepal personality brought me tremendous things and was essential in leading me to where I am now, so I shouldn’t get caught up in regretting or lambasting it.
However, knowing what I now know, I feel well positioned enough to pass on some wisdom, particularly helpful for those burdened by high expectations of overseas sojourns. Maybe my future self, future kids or even you, reader, will get something out of it.
Put on the comparative scales, social media’s few plusses are flung into oblivion by the huge weight of detriment. Especially while travelling, resisting the urge to update followers will bring immeasurable benefits. If they’re truly interested in what you’ve been doing, that curiosity won’t wane. The opportunity to share stories will arise if it needs to. And if they’re not interested, there’s no good reason for that lack to bring you down.
Journalling the day-to-day patterns of my mind also proves a great practice for me in fully appreciating life. X experience made me feel this way, but thinking about Y brought in a whole different basket of emotions. Writing down interesting stories is beneficial too, in particular for future reflection and nostalgia.
Look for the obvious factors fogging up hopes of mental clarity and wellbeing. Phone overuse, lack of exercise, bad sleep or diet, etc. Once those issues are reined in - not the easiest process, but always a worthwhile one - you’ll be firmly on the path to contentment.
Finally, after learning the lesson of not seeking stories for stories’ sake, it bears emphasising that I don’t at all dismiss the sociocultural importance of storytelling. I hope to post plenty of life yarns here, both for personal catharsis and the interest of those who’d like them.
It’s a fantastic privilege that I have these stories to tell but don’t need to tell them to appreciate their worth or, for that matter, my own worth.
‘Til next time!
Sometimes it's very necessary to feel like you are the center of the world. Sometimes it's necessary to realize you're not. I think maturing isn't changing your state of mind for good but being aware of when it is the appropriate time for which state. And the greatest stories I have to tell happened when I was just being myself and didn't care what others will think or say.