Giving in to wanderlust

In high school when French and Spanish club went to France and Spain, I asked my mom if I could go. She said no. I planned a short trek from my home state of Michigan to Canada for my 19th birthday — this was back in the days where you could go with only your birth certificate — and my mom said she’d report my car stolen if I went. In college, I never studied abroad both because I knew my parents wouldn’t pay for it and I didn’t feel I had time with the summer internships and extra classes I took.

I was denied something I longed for my entire life; I can’t remember the desire not being there.

After I got my degree, I didn’t feel like I had enough money to travel. I also worried how my parents — my mom in particular — would react. It took me three agonizing years after college to purchase a round-trip ticket to Ireland. I bought it in late April. I will set off late August and return early October.

It felt like an impulse buy, but I had to do it despite my fears. Paulo Coelho's brilliant book The Alchemist captures everything I’m going through.

“Bakers are more important people than shepherds. Bakers have homes, while shepherds sleep in the open. Parents would rather see their children marry bakers than shepherds.”

I decided in January of 2014 that I would go backpacking for a month this year. I originally planned to go in April, but that plan was out because I had to obtain a passport and my first credit card before I could buy my plane ticket.

The passport was the easy part. But I've never had a credit card, so that was a project in itself. My parents never explained why building credit was important, so I simply never got one. I didn’t take out student loans either, thus the lack of credit. I got rejected everywhere before I had to put a massive deposit down for a card. I didn’t anticipate putting down money for a card, so going backpacking earlier was not feasible — especially because of the work lifestyle I chose.

I'm a full-time freelancer and would do anything for the stability and stimulation of a salaried job. I considered getting one, but decided backpacking without time restriction was more important. Despite feeling comfortable in my choice, the fact that I don’t have an actual job — and never have — sometimes makes me feel behind for my age. Similarly, the looks people gave me for not yet having a credit card made them think I was behind for my age. I don’t feel this way — but it is nice to have a financial safety net in case emergencies arise.

But, as Coelho puts it, “In the long run, what people think about shepherds and bakers becomes more important for them than their own Personal Legends.”

I don’t want to be one of those people. This is important to me. It’s bigger than a trip. I’m not letting my own insecurities about my career success — or anyone else’s opinion of me — get in the way.

And oh boy, did people have opinions.

Some of those opinions — mostly from my fellow travelers — were overwhelmingly positive and supportive. Other folks, however, criticized where I was spending my money, my time, and my efforts — despite all of those belonging exclusively to me. They weren’t direct about it, but people said things like “Well, at least you can afford to do it” or “Why do you need to go for a month?” or “Why would you want to go by yourself?”

Perhaps some of these critics are jealous and believe what Coelho calls “the world’s greatest lie.”

“It’s this: that at a certain point in our lives, we lose control of what’s happening to us, and our lives become controlled by fate. That’s the world’s greatest lie.”

To those people: I am affording this trip through sheer willpower. I’m broke as shit, particularly from buying all the things I need (adapters, a quality backpack, a raincoat I’ll want to wear later, a compact quick-dry towel, multipurpose detergent so I can wash my clothes in sinks, an international phone plan, travel insurance, and my plane ticket itself).

And the reason I’m going for a month is because this isn’t a vacation. It’s an extension of my education, and I’m putting my entire life on hold until I can see it through. This is a solo trip because it’s both a lesson and a test. I am learning about and testing my self-reliance, my faith in humanity, my ability to love myself and be alone, my confidence, my problem-solving skills, and probably a lot of other things I don’t know about yet. It’s all that in addition to my love of culture, people, food, museums, and a general good time.

In short: “I couldn’t have found God in the seminary, he thought, as he looked at the sunrise.”

I’ve been sidetracked a million times in attaining this dream. Many people have criticized me and don’t understand me. I have decided to leave all my loved ones behind momentarily for this recurring dream — because they’ll be there when I get back. But I can’t be who I’m supposed to be or find what I’m supposed to find without going. Just call me Santiago.