How to Travel with a Travel Partner

It can be a real struggle to keep myself balanced while traveling, and a partner makes it all the more challenging. I want what I want, and I want it now. I'm all about making sacrifices for the heard, but continual sacrifice - like continual selfishness - do not make for a good travel partner. They just make for a grade-A bitch.

This is a challenge for anyone, and everyone: How to travel with a partner. No matter who that partner is, or how long you are traveling for. Certainly at first, when you are getting your bearings, and figuring out how you and your partner work together. And certainly by the end of your trip together, when you are ready to make-up, break-up, or keep-it-up, and both of you are also coping with returning back to where ever it is you came from. A lot of people underplay what these sorts of changes can mean for a person, and that coping with change can be emotional. I have been traveling for a month now. I have been to 6 different countries, only three of which have been unfamiliar to me.

My method has been to get my bearings the first day by walking around, then I feel settled and familiar by the second day, and by day three I am ready for a unique adventure or excursion. Day four is the same as day three and on day five I feel, not only comfortable, but completely relaxed. Its important to me to familiarize myself quickly so that I can feel relaxed sooner. I take my time to slow down after initially settling in, because of the rush of change. The exhaustion of travel is nothing. It is a rush though, like a wind sweeping into you and then, when you leave, all at once the wind takes your breath. It rushes in and rushes out, like a wave.

I waited in the airport for 6 hours after losing my luggage, and when it was over it felt like no time at all. The time I felt relied completely on the stress of losing my luggage - which I have back now. Time, waiting - its unimportant - we find ways to occupy ourselves. The exhaustion comes from the changing elements and the adaptation, not from the travel. Even when I haven't slept, I am alert, because I am traveling and - unless I'm in my bedroom - I usually have to be at least semi-alert and aware of my surroundings. It's for this reason that a travel partner can make things easier, by taking from you the burden of being solely responsible. If you didn't see or hear information you need, you have someone else who probably did. Then again, the shared responsibility is also what makes traveling with a partner more of a challenge. Sharing anything can be a challenge - whether its parts of yourself, your things, your knowledge - to give and take the right amount requires balance.

What would normally be a small daily hurdle for me to overcome, can become an emotional struggle for balance and stability when traveling. Now, do that with a partner, and also do it for yourself, and consider your environment - all at once. Thats the task. I have three (me, my travel partner, and the community I'm in) different ideals, emotions, struggles, traditions, coping mechanisms, and I have to figure out how to make allllll of that work. From what I've seen while traveling, a lot of folks don't even consider that there is a third party involved in all of their experiences. The environment. Particularly as traveling young people, the environment has to be considered and respected.

I am constantly in a position to choose, accept, or reject new experiences and ideas as my own. Everyone is. Whether you believe in God or not, there are certainly scientifically proven energies that are a part of us. Some people call it the holy spirit. In clinical terms we would call the energies simply emotion or transference, countertransference. Essentially, it is the connection - the cause and effect of your emotions and coping skills, with everyone elses' emotions and within the environment. All of that hostile, tranquil, pent-up, or solemn energy that hits you hard and infrequently in every day life - it hits you harder when traveling - sometimes suddenly, more frequently. Then here you are, dealing with your own hurdles, while someone else who you are suppose to care about and make decisions with is dealing with emotional challenges of their own. Not to mention, the people who don't deal with their crazy emotional challenges at all, let alone while on vacation, or directly, or in terms that are conceivable to communicate with and solve problems. Not to sound too cynical, but as self-aware as you say or think you are - you are 1,000 times not that self-aware - i tell myself that to stay humble but also because it is true. I try to remember, for when I'm feeling all high-and-mighty, to not point out the speck in my brother's eye when I have a plank in my own. I try to remember that traveling isn't  about judging or clumping people into a category, its about understanding and learning.

Traveling with partners has really showed me how single-minded I can be - or not single-minded, but boxed in. We can't help the amount of ignorance we have, its a matter of accepting new information to overcome ignorance. Many people reject what is new, because ignorance is blissful and happy. What you dont know literally does not hurt you because it does not effect the way you think or your perspective on the world. And knowledge - especially new knowledge, or knowledge about realities of peoples struggles or struggles in the world - can cause anger. So a lot of people choose ignorance. I believe new knowledge, my new knowledge, can sometimes scare me or anger me - but it eventually helps me to be more empathetic. Its for that reason that I try to be grateful for the struggle. Struggle makes me better in the long run.

I feel like its important to keep multiple perspectives and empathize. To do that and still do what you want. Fulfill your dreams. It has taken me even further outside of myself  by seeing the perspectives; my affects on the community, how people receive me, how dumb I might sound if I haven't educated myself on the area or the language. Your partner sees everything completely differently. They are creating the same painting, as a different artist and with a different technique.

People often travel to make something theirs. You would probably be traveling to make something yours - at least in terms of a certain memory or idea of what you want. Some notion of what you desire deep down is what makes your take on a life so unique. I definitely don't want exactly what you want. We might like a good amount of stuff together, but there has to be an opportunity for your experience to be only yours. My friends are my friends because we treat each other the way we want and need, not necessarily because we have the same philosophy on life.

Traveling with my brother these past three weeks has been a challenge, and it has been wonderful. We both like the notion of making memories together, and spreading out on our own for different experiences as well. It's good to have a home base when you travel. It seems only natural that when one travels with a partner, that person becomes the home base. Sometimes thats the only other person who sounds like you, looks like you, or wants to talk to you when you're traveling. It's a piece of where you came from, and where you are. Sometimes it's comforting - familiar, safe - and in some cases its a reminder of somewhere you never want to return to, or are always yearning for.

So there it is, balance is the answer to everything once again - and when traveling with a partner you will need it, for yourself, for your partnership, and for your environment.

I try to have a healthy balance of me, my partner, and then me and my partner together. Healthy meaning, it doesn't make you fatter, slower, more anxious, angrier, sadder, or any of that other stuff.  At least not constantly, or more than the normal fluctuation of every day life. Sometimes we feel negative feelings and don't realize its partly because of where we are or who we are with.

So far, I've learned to never be all about the other or I will drive myself crazy - maybe even erupt on someone or myself in the middle of my travels. On the other hand, having too much of me is sort of relative. In my life its all about me, 100% of the time. Everyone's life should be that way - after all it's your life and no one else's. Maybe, what makes a person strong in the community is that they are able to be 100% about their life  - but also 100% in other ways and for others. I can be 100% about myself as long as I consider and empathize with everyone else's vantage points, respecting them by being the least harmful I can in getting what I want - preferably not harmful at all. Sacrifice should only happen when in the absence of sacrifice someone else would hurt for it. I feel that too many people sacrifice and it ends up hurting them - Is that what sacrifice is meant to do to us? Maybe they're doing it wrong? I don't believe sacrifice should happen if it leaves you hurt in a way that you can't cope with. If you're always sacrificing for everyone, all the time, then all you are is a self-tormented, self-proclaimed martyr. No one likes a self-proclaimed condescending hero. That's no hero at all.

And we all want to be heros in our own lives.

All the heroes in my life are humble, wise, respectful, and empathetic. 

Maybe traveling with a travel partner - and doing it right so that no one is defined always by one thing or emotion - maybe that just means, making yourself your hero. Maybe thats what life is, making yourself into your hero - the one you always admired and strove to be. Be that person with those ideal characteristics, and only for yourself. I think if I do it right then other people will follow me, and they will you also - because when we are heroes for ourselves the secondary result is becoming a hero for others.  

Why I travel

Following all of the interactions I've had up to this point in my trip, having my brother by my side is bringing together all of my reasons for why I travel. I don't think I fully knew why I so desired to travel - other than I want to - until all of my recent experiences and interactions slowly, but surely, brought all to fruition.

It's hard to explain to someone who maybe hasn't traveled, or someone who maybe doesn't think of people like I do - someone who doesn't think beyond their sight, or beyond their ears. Perhaps it would be a challenge if you never left your home state, or maybe you focused on the designated "priorities" of life that culture has laid out for you. Maybe you never were told that you could look outside of your box - that it is completely possible to live in a whole new world and to create your own entirely unique traditions and lifestyle.

I was told that the best response for someone who asks why I travel is silence. If they need to ask why one travels, then perhaps they could not understand the answer. It feels the same as someone asking me; Why do you know what you know? Why did you ever want to know it at all? Couldn't you unknow it so that you can move about your life with simplicity? Why do you have to complicate things?

I know what I want, and I am doing it. To me, that is simplicity. To me, that is natural. So many people don't do, even when they know their hopes and dreams. Step 1 is knowing, step 2 is doing, step 3 is learning.

I think it has become clear that I travel, for one, because of people. I want to understand more than anyone I have ever known. I crave to sit down and listen for hours about the woes of history, the triumphs over oppression, the ever-present opinions of a person living and breathing their own culture and beliefs while surrounded by differences. I crave to end stereotypes about American travelers, although I find myself behaving ignorantly at times - half-hazardly paying attention to the effects my behavior has on the people around me. Maybe I will never see them again, but then, maybe they will shake their heads or hiss and go on telling all of their colleagues about the obnoxious American - the inconsiderate pricks that we are. That's not to say there are not other cultures that have poor travelers. Nor does it mean that all Americans are poor travelers. It does mean, that there are splendid travelers and there are poor travelers.

The splendid traveler is who I aspire to, and how I speak about travel. It's the empathetic person who is eager to meet locals and hear differing opinions without judgment. To know the culture - to know the language or be familiar with it. Its as simple as being able to tell the difference between Dutch, and Deutsch, Swiss and Swedish, Spanish and Italian, Malay and Indo, Korean and Japanese, Farsi and Arabic - an Australian accent versus an English accent versus a New Zealand Accent. To know that an American accent is an accent - not a baseline from which all accents have stemmed. The splendid traveler knows that she is out of place and tries not to disrupt the environment she is in, rather, join it - or at least show desire to, and respect for the members. The plain fact that I can say hello in every country I go to changes the response of the people I speak with - even when I can't continue the conversation in their language. I tried. And we then respect one another. I, already entering with respect for the culture, and I, often needing to prove my respect and earn theirs as an American traveler - a byproduct of respect and trying is to feel safe, I'll be it comfortable, with foreign concepts and people. Americans do have a reputation as travelers - a terrible reputation - and I entirely understand it as I find myself, at times, being tested by eager young travelers around me.

The splendid traveler does not complain. She smiles. She knows when not to make eye contact. She does not give distasteful opinions about the culture she is in, and certainly not to a local. She knows the difference between disliking a tradition, and disrespecting one. She understands social cues. She understands that traveling alone is better because she is solely responsible for her own interactions. A splendid traveler has never been anywhere without creating a friend, and she understands that a friend does not necessarily mean a companion. She loves even when she is not loved. She knows when to ask questions, and she does. She knows when to be silent, and she does. She is choosey about when to be a child, and when to be an adult. Choosey about when to be spontaneous and when to be planned. This girl, has done her research - she isn't going in blind and so she knows what questions not to ask, and what places not to go. She is safe by herself because she is smart about all of these things. She has skills, but she learns others' and observes silently. Her opinion and experience is only important to her while she is traveling - and so she seeks the opinion and experience of others. Everyone likes to talk about themselves - the splendid traveler knows, however, that although everyone likes to talk about themselves, not everyone likes to listen about others. Silence is wise.

When she leaves her travels, maybe she has seen sights, and maybe she has spent money to climb on top of a tower for a view - being a tourist does not make anyone a poor traveler. Being only a tourist does. When she leaves her travels, although she may have toured (as she should to know the culture) - she also experienced the culture, the people, the language, the food, the tradition, the nature. And therefore when she leaves, she is able to love completely her counterparts and when she loves them completely she can be understanding beyond measure. International respect is extraordinarily powerful in human interactions and relationships.

Never seeing someone again, is not what is important. Leaving a handprint on their heart, and theirs on yours, is what is. A gentle handprint from a warm embrace is just as memorable, as a red handprint from a forceful slap. Sometimes when we are quick to hug - to get the hug out of the way - we squeeze too hard and our hug becomes painful. We must hold on, gently as a mother would, and we must breathe life into the hug. The shock of a warm unexpected hug, or a slap, are the same. Both can bring you to tears with their power, both are beyond measure in your heart. You will remember this, and although the slap or the hug may not have existed for anyone other than you and the other, it is now your truth and theirs. You share it.

For one, was because of people. For two, is because of me. All of what I said, about being a splendid traveler, and leaving your mark on a person's soul - all of those things make a person observant, stronger, better for herself and for others.  And her soul becomes marked as well. It enlightens. It's true that travel enlightens. Never again will you be forced to be so aware, so keen to your surroundings, who you are, how you behave, and what you believe. You cannot lie to yourself about anything, because you are your only companion. I notice that so many of us lie to ourselves rather than looking at who we are, rather than accepting our truths so that we can be the best. We can be the best but only with all of our flaws. No inward lies that blind our growth - only beauty in flaws and gifts. Many of us don't realize we lie about ourselves - to ourselves. Sometimes I see the truth of others even when they don't and when they speak I hear their lies - but they believe the lies. They havent yet realized their truth. Truth is necessary for enlightenment, and yet we often choose to feel other things instead, not realizing that it is only a distraction from your truth. Shame is yours only. Guilt is yours only. Embarrassment is yours only. You feel them because you choose to, and when you are completely honest with yourself, and love you anyway, all of those other negative things go away and you become wise.

I suppose in that respect that when I travel for me I travel for truth. Truth is the key to all of the mysteries of life, ourselves, humanity, God - enlightenment is the door in which the key can be found, and gratitude is the manner in which we pass the threshold. I'm not wise enough to tell you what is over the threshold, however, I imagine it is a place where there is no need for questions and no need for answers.

And so I travel for truth. At least for now.

London, England is the Heart

Today is a day for interludes - a shorter more cynical entry awaits you. Our spirits will lift after we leave London and if you continue to read you will understand why.

London is such a simple, overpopulated, tourist attraction of a city, and therefore it requires an interlude. After less than two days I grew tired of this bustling city. I lack gratitude for the melting pot of cultures, the accessibility of the tube, and the overpopulated walks through S. Kensington Park, Hyde Park, and the S. Bank. Buckingham Palace, though a site to see, still but a disappointment since onlookers are no longer allowed to approach the guards to play the game of trying to make them break position. All I wanted to do was wave my hands quickly in front of his face to make him blink. To my disappointment we are separated by a gate, or a rope, or a street performer dressed as Gandalf from The Lord of the Rings saying, "You Shall Not Pass" as he bangs his staff. I played make-believe as I stood in front of the gate disappointed: maybe years of thousands of tourists waving in the guards faces has forced some of them into retirement with post-traumatic stress disorder. Now in their retired lives, no one can wave to them, swat flies around them, or come within a foot of their face without them reliving the trauma of tourism. Hah

 I would appreciate the culture of London, if it had one. Unfortunately fish and chips are much to be desired, along with English beers, and eye contact after 8pm. I would say to steer clear of all of the above. 

The English drink Pimms is quite popular and tasteful. Its a fruity cocktail with vermooth, juices, and fruit. The English Sangria - it's much sweeter (in compensation for their terrible tasting beers.) Of all English foods and beverages, thats all thats worth talking about. Imagine leaving Spain and the only thing you had to say was, well the sangria was pretty good.

I have walked this entire city, and I disappoint myself that I cannot seem to find anything that I have grown to love about it. I just think, at least they make fried eggs better than the Irish. I like to crack my yolks not crumble them. I have a tendency to crack a yolk sometimes. Ho!

Despite my cynicism, I hypocritically say that I could imagine myself living here. It is easy to live here. There are so many walks to be done, and outer cities to be seen. Scotland is but a skip away. Everything is accessible, as it is in New York City, except for maybe 24 hour accessibility. Perhaps I can imagine myself living here because I have lived there. A fantastic city to live in, a somewhat obnoxious city to tour.

But then again, I'm not touring am I?

 ... am I?

Its an insult to New York, however, to compare the two. The Londoners and Europeans like to think that London is the European New York City, with its mimicking shopping districts, broadway shows, even an M&M factory in the center of Leicester Square. London, however, is not nearly as exciting, not nearly as spontaneous and organized, and not nearly as proud.

I'm learning quickly my likes and dislikes - I do not like cities, unless there are numerous views and walks along rivers or parks with plenty of personal space. In New York it was always easy to avoid crowds and live, at times, as if I was not even in a city.

---- Now heres where I switch gears from cynical to passionate. You'll notice - although I didnt do it on purpose and am only inserting this as an afterthought to reflect on my own self - that my writing instantly becomes more engaging and thoughtful. As with life, cynicism poisons our senses and makes us dumb. Read on and watch me gradually become smarter and for beauty to unfold. ---- 

Although I see London in wicked contrast of NYC, sadly they are similar in that London too has its fair share of racism. After a long day of rest, my brother (who has joined me for the next few weeks), a new Latino friend named Andre, and I, went to the Soho area to see what the nightlife of London was like. While walking about on a hunt for bars that didn't require a cover charge, we stopped suddenly at a street corner stood and watched. In front of us, a police car blocked the crosswalk, and I noticed that suddenly the white male officer was yelling at a group of black twenty-somethings who had just crossed the road behind the car. "Hey! What did you say to me?! Did you just call me a dick?" And he jumped out of his car with a swiftness, grabbed one of the young black men by the shoulder and said "what did you say to me?" The young man said, "I'm sorry, do I know you?" He had an American accent. The officer spoke closely and loudly to the mans face, and the man respectfully denied any such behavior. The officer then handed the young man off to a female officer who gave them all tickets. I felt ashamed for not saying anything - but weighing out my own risk; I do not know if the young man actually did anything (though I doubted it), and I cannot afford to be arrested or ticketed in a foreign country. Although, if I were kicked out of England for any reason and never to return, I might not mind it terribly. For a moment I thought that because I had white skin, I could say something and not be arrested. Sometimes we aren't meant to know if we did the right or wrong thing. Sometimes life just plays its film and we watch and we watch and we watch until we learn and we do things differently during the next scene - when it's our time to act.

Having also walked by Arab restaurants with smashed glass windows - one does not give naïve excuses for these observations.

You'd think in a "melting pot" such as London, that racism would be less, not more. After that, my opinion of London solidified, and I reflected on my own judgment. I am my own best critic. I always have a critique. A good critic never says "flawless" and never says "hopeless." I am neither, yet I am both.

After that it was time to leave London. My brother and I have made the most out of our experience having walked over two hours a day - every day - throughout this city. We've seen monuments, recognized the differences in cultures - the tube not the subway, the lift not the elevator - our biggest challenge being to make sure to look the proper directions when crossing the street, and to not throw toilet paper into the toilet. We can both navigate without a map now, and we both decided that an interlude from London to Brighton Beach would bring us to the true English culture and away from the city that we were growing distasteful of.

We woke up early, packed, and headed to the train station. After areiving in Brighton & Hove we walked down to Brighton beach, and passed dozens of Kebab shops - i instantly thought Yes! An Arab community! Unfortunately the racism of the city was a challenge to escape, with one of the Kebab shops locked up and closed due to several rock holes in the windows. Ignoring coincidence would be naïve. 

My brother and I sat in silence; tanning, drinking, eating, and laying on the pebbles that made the beach ground. My brother chose to rest, and take pictures of me while I rented a paddleboard for the first time in my life, on the rough and rocky English Channel. I was not so successful in standing for long due to the high white trulls, however, I did get to do some yoga on my board in between push-ups and paddles. I made sure to make it as much of a challenge as possible.
The water was a diarrhea brown color, and not very welcoming. "Merky" would be a compliment. Despite my efforts to avoid it, I fell in at the very end of my hour rental. At the end of the day, around 4pm, the water color appeared to be a clear green and blue - and so the color changed with the tides. I wondered if on the opposite side of the Channel - in Normandy, France - they received England's shit colored water with the incoming tide.

The Brighton Pier was fantastic. Down the stairs from the street to the beach, we immediately came across a boardwalk lined with shops, restaurants, a hookah lounge, merry-go-rounds, carnival games, and bars. I tried a cockle (sea snail) and sang Molly Malone to myself as I did, with cockles and bottles alive alive-O! Of course my brother and I ended our afternoon at the hookah lounge. After saying only a brief word in Arabic to the Egyptian owner, Adam, we sat and talked about his hopes and dreams. He was one of those people who had a hand in everything - he was a chef, a financial officer, a marketer, a shop owner - and all successful within the year that he immigrated away from his family in Egypt. From Egypt to England. I had instant admiration and curiosity. I wondered about his experience of Egypt at present, and why, perhaps, he was not put-off when we said we were American. I purposefully did not ask about Egypt - I did not dig deeper as I normally do. My brother suggested to me later that Adam became more open to us only after I entered into the conversation speaking Arabic. I thought; of course, everyone gets excited about their people, especially when they are far away from home. Its one of those universal responses.

On the Pier were two arcades where adults can win money and children can shoot make-believe characters and drive make-believe cars. There were dozens of snack and candy shops - apparently Brighton is known for their cream fudge, and rock candy (in all shapes and sizes). "Rock candy" is simply what they call rock hard candy - ho! At the very end of the Pier were the most exciting carnival rides I have ever seen at a beach. Akin to Coney Island. There were two rollercoasters with loops and all, along with several other fly-in-the-air-while-ya-twist-and-spin rides. The English Coney Island.

The prices for everything were fair, the people were enjoyable, the sun was out, I exercised - I could have stayed at Brighton Beach for the next week. Unfortunately, we hadn't planned on going at all let alone staying a night, so our day ended when the sun went down.

 We learned through locals and firsthand experience that when the night falls upon Brighton the "trashy white bloaks" come out, getting drunk and fighting whoever looks at them, or doesnt look at them, or breathes near them. Just as we began to experience some this, we woefully returned to London.

Suffice to say, Brighton Beach saved my perspective of England, despite the local reckless drunkenness. It was a fantastic day journey - and my brother now loves my spontaneous travel ideas and will follow me into whatever darkness or light I lead him. It is amazing to have him by my side even just for a moment, to experience what I experience, to know what I know, and to understand how I think about the world. And vice versa.

If I ever come to England again, I will go around the coast - everywhere but London. The beauty lies within the eyes, not within the heart. The heart is an organ, after all, it doesn't have emotion - the eyes do. The eyes are the window to the soul of a country the same as of a person.

London is the heart of England.