smileytraveler

The best part about traveling isn't the adventure. I'd say, without hesitation, that it's the exposure to all kinds of different people, cultures, and ideas. If I'd stayed in my hometown I would be a radically different individual than I am today. Traveling has made me a human sponge, absorbing ideas and ways of life that I then mish-mash and morph into my own worldview and personality.

The biggest reason to start writing things down is to document how I've changed as a person. I no longer hold many of the ideas I did when I was 24. Had I remained in the “monoculture of ideas” of my hometown...well, you get the point.

Hopefully writing down old travel stories will help me remember where I was mentally when they happened. I have a lot of projects going now, but I have a feeling this one, purely out of desire to reflect on the last 13 years, will turn out to be one of the best.

Traveling physically is phenomenal for developing into a well-rounded person, but time-traveling might be even more important. I've recently come to believe that if one has x hours in a day to consume words/ideas, at least 50% should be spent on consuming the stories and lessons of those who came before us.

When I think about what a small blip of nothingness my life is compared to the whole of the human experience, instant humility sets in. To list all the examples would be impossible. There are too many.

Nothing has done more to help me understand others and take a more compassionate view of the world than has the study of history. Full stop.

I've always been a fiercely independent person, even as a child. And for reasons I may or may not discuss in the future, self reliance, toughness, and creativity in navigating the world have been an absolute necessity.

As such, I became drawn to libertarian ideology as soon as I was old enough to “take a side”. (If you're not from the US, basically you are either a Republican or Democrat. You need that “D” or “R” after your name, otherwise other Americans have no idea whether or not they're supposed to hate you. So you help 'em out a little.)

So growing up I observed that one was expected to flock with one's fellow birds, right? Lutherans hang out with fellow Lutherans. Goths hang out with fellow goths. Nerds hang out with fellow nerds. Bored soccer moms hang out with fellow bored soccer moms. This makes complete and total sense when you think about it: we want to be in the company of people who are like us. Additionally, we tend to like and trust people who are like us. It ain't bad...it just is.

So as a fresh-faced, fiercely independent adventurer, for the first time in my life I was charged with “finding my tribe”. I was no longer under the spell of the homeland and could now choose who “my people” would be.

I chose the libertarians. After all, I desperately wanted to meet more open-minded, freedom loving, accepting, self-reliant, tough individuals. I wanted those types of people as my friends and adopted family. (That's another really cool thing about being a single, childless wanderer...you can choose your family. You'd be surprised how many other single, childless wanderers there are out there. We all need someone to have barbecues with.)

So, after a very short time I had my tribe, but it was an interesting one. For one, the tribe is big and its scattered all over the globe. When ex-hubby and I lived on the sailboat, for example, we'd meet all kinds of fascinating characters while on shore in marina lounges and picnic areas. We'd have drinks, share travel stories, and break bread together. I adored quite a few of them. But then, for the first time, it struck me: we're probably never going to see this person again. It was a feeling unlike any I've had before. Making a new friend and then losing them the next day.

This happened over and over for several years. We always stayed in touch, and promised to visit each other should our paths ever cross again. And sometimes we did. We developed a large network of kindred souls scattered all over the globe. I'm still in touch with many, many of them to this day. (I really want to share this part of my journey in more depth, as its important to the way I view friends and loss.)

Alrighty, I'm way off topic. Back to libertarians.

A year into the globetrotting, I meet future hubby, and a few years later we settle down (whatever that means) for a while in South America. We find our local tribe, which is held tightly together by ideology, nothing more. There are Germans, Canadians, Italians, Hungarians, South Americans, Australians, Lebanese. There are black, white, and every shade of brown in between. There are rich, not so rich, and poor. There are families and singles. Ideas are what bound this disparate crew together...and I. Was. Hooked.

Like any group bound by ideology, this one had its “radicals” and its “moderates”. I always believed myself to be pretty radical. That's until I met actual radicals.

So I'm humbly back in the “moderate” bucket. I mostly want to engage with those who mind their own f'n business, do for themselves, try not to legislate others lives, and base their existence on untethered freedom.

Now, to be fair, most of them were normal, sweet, moderates. But there were also those who would bite my head off if I said I didn't believe 9/11 was an inside job. Not in this group, but some of them had friends (or were members of online groups, I can't remember) who believed it was morally wrong to break into a neighbor's apartment to escape a burning building. In other words it would be considered a violation of said neighbor's rights or freedom or whatever to force your way into their property to access their window through which to escape. (Geez, those last two sentences are abominations...apologies.)

Some of these more radical libertarian principles were hard to deal with at first. But I didn't dispute them or condemn them. I was open-minded after all! What I did do was think a lot about them – ponder, if you will – and a whole LOT of reading.

Trying to learn more about these mysterious and fascinating libertarian principles was a noble venture, I assure you. In my innocence, I did what any rational person would do when they want to learn more about a subject. In my case, I read more libertarian authors and thinkers. And then some more. And more, and more. And, lucky for me, I had a tightly-knit tribe of comrades, real and virtual, to reinforce and stoke the embers of my newfound ideas.

And just like the real world, a good percentage of these authors were rational, moderate people with well-considered beliefs. Others, however, were angry. Very angry. And very frightened. And they shared their anger and fear freely and passionately. The more angry and fearful they were, the more anger and fear they spewed. Anger and fear: two of the most potent human emotions that exist. They're riveting, they're highly addictive.

They're so powerful and addictive, they can take the strongest, most logical human being under their spell.

I can't claim to have never been a drug addict, because many years ago anger and fear, dealt by captivating, trusted drug pushers got me real good.

I have to wrap up for today, but I'm sure you can see where this is going. I'll continue with my unfortunate descent into the “monoculture of ideas” in a future essay, as well as how reading history and traveling saved my blighted little mind.

Update: This is a travel blog. And I'm ADD. Political writings have been moved here.