When I first told friends we were travelling to Japan, among the responses was an interesting question "What do you hope to get out of that?" It was not a question I'd ever received about any of my travels before and it gave me pause.
What do we hope to get out of travel? Is it all just a selfish exercise, escaping real life and spending money to have a nice time? Adding to our carbon footprint these days is not to be ignored. Are we indulgent by thinking we can try to get under the skin of a country that we are only in for our pleasure for a few weeks, and will never live in or operate under its rules and governance? Are our observations and experiences of any value, to anyone, even ourselves? How can we really justify the time and expense when there are so many other avenues that would put both into good use?
I was still contemplating that question when we were flying high over the Pacific Ocean on our way back home from Tokyo. I looked out the window and saw puffy clouds, with the sun sliding down to the horizon and it struck me that me and my airplane mates, and every other person who has flown anywhere over the last 60 years or so, when tourism travel by air really became possible and affordable, has been able to see the world from a different vantage point than had anyone else for hundreds of thousands of years. In fact, no one in history had seen the tops of clouds before the 20th century. No one had seen mountains or oceans from above, watched rivers move in their course, islands in their entirety.
I felt so lucky to be alive in a time that gave me the opportunity to witness the earth from above. And to feel what a monsoon feels like so when I read about them I can understand and empathize with those that deal with extreme rain. And to see what a tropical forest looks like, or a sand desert, or a stretch of permafrost, so that changes to these can be understood and responded to, if a response was necessary, from some form of activism to assistance.
When I read about the actions of a politician, or the choices of a company in a country I have spent time in, I can understand 'why' a little more, and thus add a bit more insight and hopefully intelligence to my conversations and actions. Having traveled means a connection with anyone I meet who is from that place, or who has also been there, which binds us as humans. My mind is opened with information that I see first hand, or learn from those who actually live it, and my questions can relate to other places, so that I can understand even more.
Facts seem to be under threat right now, and opinion seems less based on what is real and more on what others thinks we should think. No one seems keen to really get to the heart of an issue and take the time to read the facts about it, research the history of its reality, or seek out someone who actually knows from first-hand experience. All it takes to know how harmful and hurtful a thoughtless and incorrect answer is to ask someone in a foreign land where you can find a hospital or a safe place to stay. Travel means putting yourself in others' hands, to have trust that they know something you don't and will help you learn the truth. Having a good experience on the road makes you that much more thoughtful at home when a stranger asks you where food can be bought or a bus can be taken.
I look at those rules and habits of my country differently and more closely after I have been somewhere else. Sometimes I see my country more favourably - often I see my favourably, and that makes me grateful and appreciative. Occasionally I find something less than good about something I didn't used to question but now will, because it is handled so much better elsewhere. I look at my home and surroundings more critically, but only so that I try to live my best life, and thoughtfully, consciously. Sometimes it's a habit I change for the better, or a cause I support a little more, or perhaps another that isn't really worthy after seeing what other people in other parts of the world have to deal with on a daily basis.
As a baby boomer born in the latter part of that social epoch, and born in Canada to a healthy and loving family, I know I am one of the luckiest people who has ever walked the earth. I was favoured with life in a good climate, with food and education, with the encouragement and expectation that I would contribute to the world in pretty much whatever way I wanted. I could travel, I could marry who I wanted, I could work for someone else in a shop or for myself in a house. I could be a doctor or a plumber or a gardener or a writer.
With all that opportunity available, I have often felt it is my duty to do it all. To extend my talents, such as they are, and my time and energy into as many avenues as I can, just because I can. That not to do it is to ignore and somehow snub the millennia of people who have lived harsh lives of survival only. My set-backs are of such little consequence in comparison to those faced by others everywhere. My gains have moved me even further ahead of anything some people could never have hoped for in their wildest dreams. Lives are short, and to not live them to the fullest we are capable of is a waste of the gift we have been given for however long we have it. The world is small and fragile, but so full of different landscapes and ideas and peoples and histories that to know it all is impossible, but to experience as much as possible is to be a more developed person. My brain evolved to expand, my emotions evolved to encompass, my body evolved to move, and as long as I am able to make my way through the landscape of life and help without hurting, earn without oppressing, spend without appropriating, learn without assuming, I hope to make the path better for anyone with whom I come into contact, whether it's someone I meet once once and share a smile, or someone I spend my life with and offer my undiluted love and support.
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