The Burden of Wanderlust

In the past two weeks I hiked the rocky shores of Sai Kung in Hong Kong with 64 middle school students, cooed and giggled at baby pandas in Chengdu, climbed down a sheer rock cliff next to a giant Buddha in Leshan, got lost in the winding streets of Lijiang, trekked through some of the most breath taking scenery I’ve ever seen in Tiger Leaping Gorge and listened to the moaning prayers of Tibetan monks in Shangri-la.  I’ve finally seen in person the beautiful tanned faces of the Tibetan people.  I’ve smelled the burning incense and branches of offerings in Buddhist temples.  I’ve tasted the tartness of yak yogurt and smoky mutton cooked over a charcoal grill.  Life has been pretty amazing these past two weeks. 

I fully realize how blessed I am.  At one point in the gorge, I just sat down and started crying.  How could I ever have imagined the way my life could change in a year?  My job here in Shekou has given me the blessing of being able to travel often.  But now, I’ve been saddled with the burden of Wanderlust.

While trekking in Tiger Leaping Gorge I was struck with a thought that I don’t think I will be able to shake for a while.  Last week, I didn’t even know that Tiger Leaping Gorge existed.  And yet there I was, gazing upon beauty that quite literally took my breath away.  So… how many other places are there in the world that are this beautiful? Places I must see, but don’t even know they exist yet.  I don’t think I can explain it, but in that moment I felt a weight placed on my soul.  I quite literally felt burdened to see as much beauty in this world as I can see. 

I have always liked traveling.  I consider myself fairly well traveled in the Western hemisphere.  But this week I realized I am in the AAA farm leagues of travel.  In staying in Chinese hostels you constantly meet people who are traveling not just for a month or two, but are in it for the long haul… were talking years here people.  The cost of traveling in Asia is quite inexpensive, so people end up traveling for years. I met a couple from Australia, who after her husband was given a redundancy, have decided to travel for a year.  Another man from England is living off of the money from renting his house.  He hasn’t been home in two years, but will need to return home soon because his passport is full.  This man has had 20 passports.  (It’s kind of a badge of honor, “How many passports have you gone through?”) A Kiwi I met is at the end of his year and a half of travel and is returning home via the US.  His plans when he returns? “I want to pick apples.”  Love it.

These people are not pretentious.  They are not staying in 5-star hotels. The stay in hostels and live out of backpacks.  They mostly survive on about $20 a day and budgets are watched closely.  I big night is ponying up the extra $10 for a single room as opposed to staying in the dormitory. Meals are street foods or whatever is offered by locals that they have befriended.

I’m not sure that I am built for that kind of traveling, but I have for sure been motivated by it. Hearing Big League travelers talk about their experiences makes me quite jealous and also makes me feel a bit of a rube. I want to be that person that says things like… “When I did the trek to Everest Base Camp…” or “I’ll be in Inner Mongolia for a month or so.”

But for now, Shekou will have to do… “When I took the metro to Luohu to buy a fake purse…” or “I’ll be at Bolun getting a pedicure for an hour or so.”

Well, at least I have Vancouver in December to look forward to.