The Traveler I Wanted to Be

I'll never forget her. 

She was standing there in front of me in line, paying an entrance tax in San Pedro Sula, Honduras. It was my first time out of the country and I saw this girl. She was tall, tan, and blonde with her giant backpack tied around her waist. She was sporting some flattering cargo pants, Chacos, and a perfectly crafted side braid. She was traveling alone but had made some friends in the airport. They were laughing and taking artsy pictures to depict their adventures. She looked like she had walked off of an inspirational travel Pinterest board or an REI catalogue. She was awesome. 

"I hope I look like her one day," I thought to myself. 

I always think about her while I'm traveling.

That's mostly because I look nothing like her when I travel. 

Perfect braids, flattering pants, tall, tan, and any sense of "out of an REI catalogue" are not things that come to mind when I catch a glimpse of my reflection when I'm traveling. And despite the fact that I have been all around the world, I don't look any better than I did a few years ago. In fact, I think it's gotten worse since in an attempt to maximize space I have to wear a lot more bulky and unflattering clothing than cool traveling braid girl probably even packed in her bag. 

My flights usually require me to be at the airport before dawn, so my face lacks any glowing quality. My braids may start out strong, but after hours of rolling around on airplane seats trying to get comfortable they look like I was just attempting to make one mega-deadlock when I reach my destination. I typically cannot hide the pain of my spinal cord breaking under the weight of my backpack. Any strapping it around my waist results in a pretty significant muffin top  that my self-esteem just can't allow me to walk around with. And no flattering hiking pants for me. That's probably because no matter which type of hiking pants you get, hiking pants are in fact designed for people who actually hike. And it's a double whammy when your final destination requires you to be wearing a skirt.

And even though I have mastered the security line, it makes no difference. I often wonder if my diverse travels have put me on some sort of watch list, because there is no security line that I have not been pulled out of, no time when all of my belongings have not been sorted through or chemical-tested, and no adventure that has not included some questioning about my intentions and possessions. Except for one occasion when a security guard pulled me out of line to tell me I was going to be flying with Motley Crue. 

And so, instead of casually walking around like some sort of put-together goddess of travel, my stamp-covered passport has not prevented me from looking like a bulky, sweating mess, just trying to find my gate, get to my seat, find a tall person to get my carry-on in the overhead, and hit as few people as possible. But even that endeavor is often thwarted, particularly when you accidentally leave a water bottle in your bag several rows up and it starts dripping on someone and you have to do the walk of shame to claim and remove the water bottle as the plane is lifting off.

The travel experiences that I stumbled upon rarely met glamorous, clean, simple, sexy, or picturesque experiences that cover Pinterest boards. More often I would think of these images and think - Where are these girls traveling? What kind of sweat, elements, time, life-proof makeup are they wearing? How did they get all those cute clothes in those tiny bags? Where are the red marks on your shoulders from carrying all your different pairs of shoes in that tiny bag? How can they afford to stay in places with showers they aren't too afraid to enter? Who's taking pictures of them? Are they climbing mountains with salons on top? How are they not going to get sand everywhere?

Never once have I completed a "Must-See" or "Must-Do" or "Must Eat" List of any city I've been in. Most of my time is usually spent trying to find one or two of them, and being lost the rest of the time. And the ones we find are sometimes not cute cafes, but dirty meat markets with the fancy storefronts that are all over those "Must-See" lists. And after days of being mostly lost my friends and I have rarely been awake enough to go out on the town very late. And when we did we inevitably got lost again. We've missed trains and buses and trams and right turns. We've purchased the wrong plane tickets and were gouged on souvenirs. 

And while it hasn't ever looked like I imagined, I'm very happy with the travels - or rather the life - that I have today. I have long given up on the perfect look, living for a camera lens, and the overall pursuit of cleanliness while on the road. And while all the girls that appeared on my Pinterest page look really nice, I can't imagine that they're having as much fun as I am.

In our social media-dominated culture it is so easy to set up false expectations for ourselves and our experiences, even to the extent that we no longer enjoy the life we're living. But life on Instagram is not always real. It usually waits for the perfect moment, places filters over all of the awkward moments that preceded it, and crops out all of the negative feelings. And that's what we have to compare ourselves to.

And it's not just travel - it's everything. Our bodies are not beautiful enough, our travels are not glamorous or adventurous enough, our wardrobe is not fashionable enough, our crafts are not intricate enough, our meals do not have enough of whatever superfood is trending, and our coffee mugs are never ironic enough. And not only are all of these things not enough, but we have to put artistic canvases with quotes in different fonts to remind us of all of these greater heights we should be aspiring to. 

Maybe it's not all about the greater heights, but about learning to breathe at the altitude we're at. Maybe it's not always about living a dream, but about living well.

So, even if your adventures seem a little tame...

Or the place everyone had raved about turns out to be an expensive ride on a tiny boat in shallow water to a sight that's not that cool...

Or your conservative background didn't prepare you for the European art hanging in your hotel room...

Or you get lost in Berlin and caught up in the middle of a Ukrainian protest...

Or you're staying in a cold tent living off nectarines...

Or you're overwhelmed in a big city... 

Or you're stuck in a small town...

Or you can't handle high-heels for long periods of time, so you have to take them off to make it  through Walmart...

Or your long-awaited clementine cake turns out more like a citrus frittata...

Or you go to a Thai restaurant instead of making Christmas dinner...

Or you're single on Valentine's Day...

Or your perfectly weeded and composted garden that you spent way to much money on produces only bok choy ... 

Or you're not super fashionable every day of your life...

It doesn't mean you're not enough. It doesn't mean that you're not as valuable as the people in the images that consume and deceive us. It doesn't mean that your life is less. It doesn't mean that your days lack opportunity to embrace love, joy, laughter, adventure, beauty, divinity, friendship, fun, extravagance, peace, rest, accomplishment, confidence, humility, growth, sweet memories, Kodak moments, and exotic cuisine. You don't have to live perfectly to live well. 

We should surround ourselves with more high quality people than high quality pictures. Our stories should be written with meaningful experiences, not unrealistic expectations. A life made up of following the map directly and correctly is not nearly as interesting - and the destination not nearly as satisfying - as one whose journey is made up of some wrong turns, unexpected sights, and asking many people for directions. The grass is rarely greener on the other side, but sunsets are beautiful anywhere.