Why Do We Travel?

I’ve just arrived home after 3 and half weeks in Japan. Of course I’m a little weary, and the customary travel sneeze/cough/sore throat thing has happened. I had the typical ‘Australian returns home’ breakfast of toast and vegemite (to be truthful it was Promite…judge away readers.) And then settled in to several loads of washing, divesting the suitcase of the weirdly wondrous things I decided might just come in handy (house slippers to fit any size foot and a myriad of hotel toothbrushes!) And every item of clothing I took and did not wear. (There was some serious commentary about the number of shoes I took on this holiday). Again judge away.

The holiday was truly fabulous. We saw amazing sites, immersed ourselves in the history of Japan and the cultural experiences that brought the place to life. Luckily we also had really special catch ups with family and friends who gave us the chance to experience life outside of the tourist cities and get a small glimpse into daily life. The trains, crowds, food, art, monuments and cultural attitudes awakened the joy that can only come from the first-hand experience of being outside your comfort zone and being that foreigner in a place where you don’t speak the language, have to learn a completely different protocol for social engagement and occasionally eat something that challenged both the taste buds and the mind. (Including, but not limited to, fermented soy beans, horse sashimi, raw egg and offal).

So why travel? Particularly if you are going to turn your nose up at certain culinary delights. (Mind you I had a very similar reaction to the ubiquitous ‘mac and cheese’ in America…I felt my arteries hardening before it reached the table).

Perhaps I should answer a different question…why do I travel?

The simple fact is that I like the challenge of something different. I like people and there is no greater way to come to understand cultural differences other than having first hand experiences. In a restaurant watching people eat, on trains seeing how many people can actually squeeze into a single carriage, helping other tourists with directions, travel tickets, food choices and experiences.  Seeing parenting, work meetings, shopping, rush hours, housing, exercise and leisure unfolding in real time gives momentary insight into what is different to our own lives. It is extraordinary to see how many things are not part of your own cultural lexicon and perhaps more importantly thinking about your response to what seems so normal to people who live there. And at this point I could name a thousand things but I’ll just explain one.

Walking. I’ve been doing it for a while now but not competently by Japanese standards. It’s fast. Lightening fast and a crowd is almost magically in sync with those around them (and when I say those around them I’m talking 10s of thousands of people.) And if you happen to be in Shinjuku Station you might be talking millions. Everyone is walking at pace, there are no dawdlers and even those who never take their eyes off their phones do not collide, do not break the rhythm nor do they seem to deviate from their intended direction. That was left to us. We ducked, weaved, stalled, broke pace, stopped randomly (generally to look at cakes), had no sense of where we were going, made sudden turns and eventually took refuge in front of large signs or pylons to get out of the throng. Eventually we managed some semblance of the process and almost eliminated frustrating those who were on a mission. We learned to make a break in the momentary flood of people when trains divested themselves of commuters. There appeared to be a ten second lull…that was our time to move.

Now you might think that sounds like too much hard work and while I’ll admit it was pretty exhausting, it was also a lot of fun. We learned the myriad of ways to thank people, apologise for being a bit useless, order food by pointing at pictures, become proficient at Google Translate, reading train timetables and eventually getting about the country without any issues at all. (My side thought here is to identity one issue…the stress levels occasionally got a little unruly and perhaps on one or two occasions terse words are spoken.) Read into this what you will.

And all the experiences aside it really is the people who fascinate me. The train conductor who bowed to the carriage before he moved on to the next, the mother on her bike with a baby in a bag at the front and a toddler on the back, twenty business men wearing the same suit striding somewhere, the wonderful service people in hotels, restaurants and shops who actually make you feel valued, the lovely group of young Japanese tourists who lead us patiently through a maze of gates and platforms to get us on the right train, the joy of having a laugh when we couldn’t understand each other and yet we communicated anyway. And the amazing ability for commuters to fall asleep if they found a seat and I mean virtually the moment they sat down. Heads lolling and nodding as the train moved but so secure in the knowledge that one, they were safe, and two, that they would magically wake up as they reached their station. And the tiny children, dressed in fairly elaborate uniforms, who happily transited between school and home via what might be the most elaborately complicated train system I’ve ever navigated. Most of them carrying backpacks bigger than themselves. Happy, competent and unruffled little humans doing the school commute as easily as if they had walked to the next-door neighbours.

So the differences are part of the reason I like to get out in the world. But perhaps the most significant reason is the polar opposite. No matter where you go on the planet, no matter what people are wearing or how they eat, it’s the similarities between us that always surprises me. It is the fact that no matter our cultural and historical understandings we share so many things that make us more connected than not. The things that make us smile, or roll our eyes, or break our hearts or command our attention are very much the same the world over. A baby’s smile, the impulse to help if someone is hurt or frightened, the joy of being home, the contentment of the familiar, love, wonder, anger and disbelief…the shared human experience. It gets me every time I travel…I love the diversity of life but I’m always blown away by our lack of difference in so many ways.

I wish we had more leaders who could understand that simple thing. We will diverge in faith and customs, we will look different, there will be variance in the daily lives we lead but in essence we are one family. And that fact is why I like to travel. When I can’t speak your language and sometimes I can’t eat what you like, I can catch your eye and share a moment, we can stand in reverenced silence as we share our horror at past atrocities, we can smile at the absurd and weep with disbelief. And I imagine if more of us came to understand this, then we can absolutely learn to respect each other and the planet we share.

I've sailed upon the seven seas

and stopped in every land,

I've seen the wonders of the world

not yet one common man.

.........

I note the obvious differences

between each sort and type,

but we are more alike, my friends,

than we are unalike.

We are more alike, my friends,

than we are unalike.

from ‘The Human Family’ by Maya Angelou