A few months ago, I almost booked a trip to an exotic new-to-me country. It was a whimsical idea, born largely of romantic impulse. I hadn’t had this particular country on my radar until recently, and it doesn’t appear on my bucket list. Still, it had suddenly captivated me, and I thought it would be worth checking out.
At the last minute, however, I decided against it. Or rather, I decided to delay. The complexities involved in traveling at that particular moment were too overwhelming to make the trip worth it; the timing was off.
Although I was disappointed at not getting to take a new country by storm, one thing consoled me: I now had it to look forward to in the future. (Hopefully within the next year or so, if all goes according to plan).
What’s the point of this near-miss travel adventure story? It got me thinking that, as much as I love traveling, it sometimes feels like I enjoy the anticipation even more. I love discovering new cities and countries, making real to myself places that before I visited were only photos on Instagram and lines on a map.
But at the same time, I can’t help but notice that, after I’ve been there, these places lose a bit of luster in my memory. I often look back fondly (“What a great city that is”), or even in rapture (“That trip was AMAZING! Most beautiful beach in the world!”). But a country or locale never quite has the magical hold of the unknown again. You can’t un-experience a place you’ve been to; it will always be part of your past now, rather than your future.
The Bucket List Trap
In a way, I think this phenomenon ties into the whole issue of bucket lists.
For years, I felt a nearly frantic need to check off certain places from my personal must-see list, to the point where I felt I couldn’t tackle other major life milestones until I’d visited them. The world beckoned to me, it called me from long distances and seduced me with the allure of the new and the unfamiliar. I HAD to get out and explore all of it before I settled into “adult” life. Otherwise, I’d be selling my dreams short.
As the years passed, however, I realized something both wonderful and disconcerting: my bucket list was only getting longer and my desire to see the world more intense as I grew older. For every city or country I checked off after years of anticipation, three more popped up to take its place. Travel, and planning my life as a traveler, began to take on an almost desperate quality. I cannot rest until I’ve seen this place. I must scratch this amazing site off my list before I can move forward. I must chase this rainbow before I settle into official, duty-bound adulthood.
I began to be afraid that I’d never be able to see all the things I wanted to in my lifetime, and that this would lead to one of two outcomes: 1) I’d have to pull the plug on travel before I was ready in order to “settle down,” and always feel resentful of it; or, 2) I’d never manage to settle down at all, because there was always some new destination calling to me. I’d spend my life chasing those rainbows, and never accomplishing any other dreams for myself.
I’m not sure which possibility scared me more.
I have friends who never travel at all. I have other friends who travel occasionally, or whose bucket lists only contain one or two places. In a weird way, I almost envy these people at times. Travel is one of the most amazing, rewarding experiences a person can have in this world; I believe this with every ounce of my being, and that’s what drives me to keep on exploring. But sometimes I can’t help but think how much easier my life would be if I wasn’t always putting off other things I want into the future so that I can travel somewhere today, or tomorrow, or in the next five years. Wouldn’t that life be simpler? In the end, might such an attitude enable me to accomplish more non-travel-related goals and dreams?
The Value in Postponing Adventure
But as I’ve thought all this over more and more lately, I’ve realized a few things. For one, while I firmly believe in seizing travel opportunities and being proactive about seeing the world because it’s not going to come to you, I’ve also begun to understand that, in the wise words of my dad, the world isn’t going anywhere. India will still be there to dive into, whether I do it next year by myself, in a decade with young children in tow, or in thirty years as a retiree. I don’t have to see my life as such a frantic rush to the travel finish line, because there is no finish line until the very end. And with some effort and ingenuity, I can still see a lot of the world before then.
And I’ve realized something else; sometimes, as cliché as it seems, anticipation really is half the fun. As much as I love making my travel dreams come true, I need some of them to stay dreams—at least for now. Part of what makes travel magical is imagining how incredible it will be when you discover your next rainbow–whether it’s lighting up the sky over a waterfall in Iceland, or the Scottish Highlands, or the mountains of Machu Picchu.
I can’t live without travel, but I also can’t live without travel dreams: the anticipation of what that far-flung destination you’ll make it to “someday” will bring. I need to keep some of my dreams safely in the future, where I can unfold them when the time is right.
Someday–perhaps in just a few months–I’ll make it to the country I almost flew to this summer. In the meantime, I’ll keep dreaming, planning, and anticipating. And I’ll be happy that I still have one more dream destination awaiting its turn to be discovered.