Hometown Vagabond

You Are a World Traveller: It’s Time for Time to become part of the Journey

// September 28th, 2011 // Uncategorized, World Travel: Change your Relationship to Time

The journey begins today, as I walk down the stairs and am confronted with my bike. I do not have time to ride my bike to work today. I never have time to ride my bike to work.

I have a morning routine, and it is a bad one. Every morning I hit the snooze button between two and six times. I get up when my bladder becomes insistent. I walk downstairs, and I start the coffee. I turn on my computer. My cat gets an errant pat, her food and water are checked, I let her out onto the patio. I glance at the headlines, eat some combination of carbohydrates and dairy, sip coffee, check my Facebook, my e-mail. I may watch a sitcom. Some days the idea of catching a sitcom before work is only thing that gets me out of bed. With ten minutes to spare, I throw my dishes in the sink, run upstairs and pull clothes off the hangers and throw clothes on the floor, brush my teeth, haphazardly make my bed, grab my purse and go.

What do I want? I want to meditate, to poke at my garden, to walk or ride my bike until I sweat. I want to shower and do my hair, make my bed. I want to eat whole grains while reading the newspaper. I want to talk to my cat, put on a careful outfit and apply a careful makeup, to leave the house smiling. Why don’t I? My complaint is that I don’t have enough time. I don’t have enough time. Today, I don’t have enough time to ride my bike to work. Today I watched America’s Next Top Model for 45 minutes while eating chocolate chip cookies. With five minutes till deadline for departure, I decide what to wear. I walk downstairs. Twenty minutes until I have to be at work.

On the road the alarm never has a chance to wake me up. Sleeping in a noisy hostel dorm leaves little opportunity for hitting the snooze button. What does it feel like to wake up in a foreign country? What does it feel like when your first conscious breath is one of foreign air? On bad days, the lack of routine depresses me. I want an honest cup of American joe, but the hostel coffee is spiked with cinnamon, it’s instant or they only have tea. I don’t know how the showers work, I can’t dress privately, I am grumpy.

On good days, days that I am a true traveler, I wake up and I am truly awake. My heart drums and I can taste foreign tastes on my tongue. I think, “I am waking up in Spain.” “I am waking up in Edinburgh.” “This is my first morning in Prague.” Every interaction has potential, moments that would be mundane in my hometown life are novel and worthy of treasuring. I cannot predict what the coffee will taste like, and this thrills me.

Bruce Lee said, “I if you love life, do not waste time, because time is what life is made of.” When I am traveling, I really love life, and I love myself. I fall in love with life and with myself over and over with each new challenge, with each experience, with each second of well-used time.

The opposite of love, is not hate, it is apathy. My journey does not allow for apathy. I look at the clock. There is time. There is always enough time for a journey. I roll up my pant legs.