I'm Travelling Slower This Year
Less checking into hotels, more checking in with myself.
Social media has us believe that, in order to live the proverbial ‘good life’, you’ve got to travel everywhere, read everything, watch all the films, and be in an Instagrammable, happily-ever-after relationship while you’re at it, too.
When I put it like this, it sounds wildly unrealistic. Yet, somehow, perhaps unwittingly, we’ve allowed this mindset to quietly, gently creep its way into our subconscious. And, just like that, we’ve been subjecting ourselves to the pressure that we must have it all, just like everyone else seems to.
But, of course, we can’t (and shouldn’t) have it all.
And that’s because life isn’t the number of cities you visit, the number of flights you board, the number of books you read. Contrary to what we make ourselves believe, we don’t have to do every single thing. It is A-okay to stay in the same city or town or hamlet all year. You can get through half a book a year and no one will care, I promise.
If we’re going to be chasing anything at all, shouldn’t we be chasing that which makes us truly happy, and not society-prescribed ‘metrics’?
Why am I talking about all of this?
Well, because 2022 was the year I tried to do it all. Without planning to, I embarked on a jam-packed year of travel — replete with new adventures, new friends, new opportunities. And while this was all incredibly exciting, it was also incredibly exhausting and emotionally draining.
No doubt about it: bonding with interesting people on the road was a beautiful experience, one that finally gave me the chance to build meaningful friendships in India — something I deeply struggled with ever since I first moved to the country in 2019. It’s no secret that I’d been badly craving a sense of belonging here, and when I finally discovered it on my travels? Boy, was it addictive.
However, it wasn’t enough. Because while travel gave me a taste of what it felt like to develop deep-rooted relationships again, but it was always just that: a taste. Travel friendships were almost always fleeting, ephemeral.
You see, you take days (or sometimes even weeks) to find your feet in a new place, to feel at home and satisfied and settled, only to realise that your time’s up, that it’s time to move on to the next destination where, again, you won’t know anyone. The void opens up again, you scramble to fill it up again, and the cycle rears its bittersweet head again. And this repeated process of making friends-making sincere promises to keep in touch-failing to keep said promises-making new friends? It gets pretty tiring, pretty fast.
But that’s not all. When I was nomading around the country, any aspect of my life that wasn’t directly connected to travel was negatively impacted, too. A lot of my favourite habits — exercising consistently, spending more time with Dad, writing, reading — entirely fell by the wayside, thanks to the peripatetic nature of my lifestyle.
And here’s a harsh truth that I, and those close to me, have suspected but never quite articulated: I was using some of my trips to escape. Now, there’s nothing wrong with a lil escape here and there, but what I was doing behind that thin yet curiously opaque veil of social media, was running away whenever my thoughts got the better of me. I struggle with anxiety attacks that are as frightening as they are crippling, and, as privileged as it sounds, booking a flight sometimes felt like the only way to deal with them.
In fact, as I write this, the dreaded construction noise y’all know I strongly dislike is reverberating through the area. But instead of running away — even to a nearby café — I’m learning to seek solutions that are both practical and purposeful. To unpack why certain situations irk me so much, and to learn how I can eschew the temporary Band-Aid approach in favour of more long-term coping mechanisms.
What triggered this wake-up call?
This mother of all wake-up calls hit me with full force in January of this year. I’d (somehow) made it to Bangalore for our annual company offsite, and (somehow) decided to work out of the office afterwards. I know: me, an office, traffic, ‘work clothes’? All stuff of my nightmares… or so I thought.
As it turns out, experiencing ‘normal life’ — kitted out in the aforementioned work clothes, heading to an actual brick-and-mortar office, lunching with colleagues, coming home to my partner after a long day — was actually rather nice?
What I didn’t know at the time was that both my mind and body were craving a healthy helping of stability. I realised that I didn’t want to be constantly packing unpacking trekking flying setting up checking in boarding fighting over excess baggage — at least not for now.
I realised that, in my post-lockdown overexcitement, I overdid the travel. The proverbial bug bit me, and hard.
So, this is the year I strive to slow down (a little) and calm down (a little).
This is the year of balance.
What’s next?
Travelling less doesn’t mean that I’m giving up on it altogether. Far from it. Travel has been, and always will be, one of the biggest joys in my life. No cold turkeys to see here.
My plan is to simply step back a little, in the hopes that I can gain a fresh perspective on what’s truly important to me and refocus those priorities.
And the key word here: balance. I won’t be overdoing any one thing — and that also means not overdoing the whole staying at home thing.
Whenever I retreated home after a particularly hectic or tiring or over-adventurous trip last year, I’d do what my friends started to call my ‘self-imposed lockdown’. Essentially, I did little more than eat, sleep, work, cuddle the cat, and not leave the house for days on end.
Yes, it sounds dreamy and, in moderation, it truly is. But, naturally, too much isolation is never going to be healthy. And, rather unoriginally, I’ve found that completely cutting myself from the world, from ‘real life’, for extended periods of time just makes me an unnecessarily wound-up and anxious lil human being.
So, if I’m not going to stop travelling completely, what exactly is the plan?
Slow travel! Slow travel is the plan. Cutting out on the chaos and living life more intentionally. Two months of working and diving in the Philippines? Sign me up. Four months of (sloooowly) hiking my way through the Himalayas? I’m in.
Just don’t expect to see me ‘exploring’ every single weekend. The extended time in each place — punctuated with far more time at home with Dad(‘s food) — would, hopefully, ease the compulsion of having to ‘do it all’, and instead lead to a more sustainable lifestyle. (Added benefits include laundry security and just knowing which of the 10 switches in the room will turn on the fan without daily flicking experiments).
And whether I’m travelling or not, you bet I’ll be fixing up those daily habits. This means seeing my therapist consistently, and not only running to her when I have my third panic attack in as many days. Working out regularly. Eating properly (cheap hostel Maggi, we’re going on a break). Making significant progress on realising a lifelong dream of mine. And — most importantly — not suddenly dropping any of these healthy habits as soon as the temporary fun of travel takes over.
Of course, I know this mindset and lifestyle shift will be a challenge. FOMO will constantly lurk in the shadows of life, at least for now. In fact, while I stay home and write this very post, Holi celebrations are in full swing around me, and I’m reminded of how I spent the same day last year: dancing through downtown Jaipur, drenched in a (questionable) mix of colours, sweat, bhaang. It was the first Holi I’d ever celebrated properly — and the first time I’d felt alive in years.
But I do know that there are other ways to feel alive, and I’m ready to explore them, too.
So, here we have it in writing: I’m planning to travel slower this year.
Less checking into hotels, more checking in with myself.
Until next time,
S
PS: I’m nowhere near perfect or predictable (shocking, I know), so it is also possible that I don’t manage to stick to this particular resolution. However, I’m pretty confident that it is possible — and I also firmly subscribe to the school of publicly announcing your goals as a way of staying accountable. Stick around to find out what happens.
Tell me: Have you ever taken a break from a hobby you loved? Why? Let’s chat. :)
This piece was originally published on salonimiglani.com/blog. Head there to check out my previous work (go on — sneak in another coffee break).
Now Reading
After months of non-stop travel, I finally retreated home in February and promptly curled up with a yellowing, well-loved (read: falling to bits) copy of How to Be an Alien by George Mikes. I came across this book in the best way one can come across a book: by walking into an IRL bookshop.
The bookshop in question this time around was The Bookworm — quite possibly my all-time favourite place in all of Bangalore — where I found myself crying to the lovely staff about how much I was missing England and therefore how badly I needed a strong serving of Wodehousian-flavoured cocktails, stat.
So the team prescribed Mikes’ most popular book in the hopes that it’d do the trick. It did, obvs — I slurped this up in two breathless sittings, and couldn’t recommend it enough.
This is a witty, cheeky, and downright hilarious mockery-observation of Britain and its people that will have anyone even slightly familiar with this culture furiously flipping through with thoughts of the that’s-so-true variety.
Two types of people this book is perfect for:
Anyone in a reading slump. This slim 90-pager makes for a speedy lil read that can be polished off in an hour or two — perfect for enjoying that much-needed sense of accomplishment and getting back in the reading groove.
Anglophiles. Getting lost in this book actually felt like being in England — and if you know me, you know this isn’t a statement I’d ever say lightly. Pick this up if you’re in the mood for some light-hearted banter about good ol’ England.
I particularly enjoyed Mikes’ eloquent and entertaining take on tea, which happens to be the only British culinary tradition I can’t quite get on board with (despite being the world’s number 1 fan of the country’s beautiful food):
The trouble with tea is that originally it was quite a good drink. So a group of the most eminent British scientists put their heads together and made complicated biological experiments to find a way of spoiling it. To the eternal glory of British science, their labour bore fruit.
Beautiful, no? I hope to write this well one day. Having said that, I’d rate this a comforting but not entirely mind-blowing 4*.
Next up, we have my current read — one I never thought I’d read by an author I never thought I’d read: 8 Rules of Love by Jay Shetty.
Am trying to rack my frazzled brain to remember how I came across this one to tell y’all about it here, until I finally realised: I have no idea. My recommendation sources are usually crystal clear (see above), but this one chooses to be elusive for now.
So, let’s just say the sample of this book appeared on my Kindle one day and I found myself hooked — mostly because I found Shetty’s practical approach to love and relationships very appealing at this particular (st)age in my life, that is, when all ideas of fairytale romance have level-headedly shown themselves out the door.
But before I gush any further, I should mention that I’m only about 10% of the way through. The plan is to actually finish it first! Get back to you with my more detailed, honest review in our next issue.
In the meantime, please enjoy this excerpt from the early pages of the book — one of the best observations I’ve read in a while:
The difference between loneliness and solitude is the lens through which we see our time alone, and how we use that time.
The lens of loneliness makes us insecure and prone to bad decisions.
The lens of solitude makes us open and curious.
Tell me: What are you reading at the moment?
I loved what you said about fleeting friendships from traveling. It really adds to the instability of always being on the move. I’ve recently learned too that I need to slow down while I travel. My nervous system is craving stability.