Something I’ve learned in my time of unconventional life choices: whenever you do something crazy, you need at least one naysayer to spur you on. People fear things they don’t understand, such as hostels, Greyhound buses, and the idea of a young woman traveling by herself. My well-wishing friends assure me that mugging, kidnapping, murder and rape lie in wait just around the corner of every trip, and perhaps if I watched the news, I’d become paranoid as well. But in the meantime I don’t stare at the reel of horror zapping across the boob tube, and instead I travel. I meet people, I meet places, I learn about the world and about myself. And I take a little piece of Home with me wherever I go, to share with the souls I encounter and remind myself who I am.
When I announced to the general populace that I was taking an Epic Trip Out West (from St. Louis) on $10 a day, everybody seemed to think I was perfectly capable of it. Lo and behold, I have developed a reputation as a “world traveler,” which is ironic, since I’ve never been out of the United States. At first, I felt accepted and happy. Soon, though, I got nervous. Where was the opposition? Where was the person telling me that I would end up dead on the side of the road or sold into the sex trade if I ventured out alone? I thrive under loving support, but much more nervously than if one or two key people are telling me I can’t do it.
At last, two days before I left, someone asked me, “Why are you going out west? I thought you were broke.”
“I am,” I said. “Sort of. I had just enough money for the plane ticket.”
“Yes, and then what?” she asked, her forehead knit with concern. “Will you have any money once you get out there?”
I shrugged. “Not really. Not much.”
She gave me the Face: a familiar expression that seems at first to say, “You’re crazy,” but really means, “I don’t understand.” All she said was, “Not the wisest decision of your life.”
I shrugged again, and relief flooded my thoughts. Going out west when taxes just knocked my bank account to its knees, taking a two-month trip at a time when stability at home is far from guaranteed— was it a wise decision? Maybe not! Maybe it wasn’t! But I knew, and I still know, that it was the right one.
I flew out to Denver with my challenge firmly in my mind: ten dollars a day. I decided to bite the bullet on the plane tickets to get me from St. Louis to Denver, then Denver to Salt Lake City. Those (and rent back home and health insurance) are the only expenses that won’t count. Everything else, I have to get by on $10 a day. Less, if I can help it.
Today, aside from my plane ticket and thanks to the generosity of my cousin, I have managed to spend exactly $0. Welcome to day one, dear reader. Welcome to my journey.
~Lisa Shafter
Maybe you've never been out of the country, but you're getting to be as difficult to keep track of as my cousin was back when she was about our age and leaving for some foreign country every few months, if not more so. Actually, if it weren't for Facebook it would be more so. I'd say that qualifies you for the "World Traveler" title. :)
ReplyDeleteHope you have a great time! (And by the way, please don't end up dead on the side of the road or sold into the sex trade. That would make me very sad.)
As your dad, I always have a tough time keeping me mouth shut like a nailed door. The World is a scary place. But I try to take a deep breath and encourage my kids to stretch their lives out. Live out loud. Live as best you can without fear. God didn't put you here to be invisible. . .but if I were a drinkin' man, I'd have tossed a few back on your imminent departure.
ReplyDeleteBut I leave you with this last thought. Be bold, not wreckless. Love ya, me darlin' daughter