Travel now not tomorrow

  Where are you from? It’s a simple phrase, and it should be answered easily. We’ve all got to be from somewhere, haven’t we? But as more and more of us move around the world, we find we are no longer anchored to one place. As a result, the question becomes complex. Do we identify with where we were born? Or the place we were raised? Or even where we matured and discovered ourselves? However, the people who ask, ‘Where are you from?’ are generally looking for a simple answer. So should we say we are ‘from’ our birthplace, or should we opt for the place that enhanced our life? I have no answer. Instead, I’d like to make a plea that no one should expect any single soul to come from any solo location. Like rolling stones, we roam. We might not gather any moss, but we pick up other things – patterns of life, foods, traditions, language, voice. And, like cucumbers stewed in flavoured vinegar, we acquire a different essence. We keep the original contour, but we are changed, enhan...

  Probably the most prominent  friend I made while travelling is Melitta, an Austrian girl I shared a house with while in Zambia. She was, like me, young and idealistic, keen to improve healthcare in our little segment of Africa. We shared a house at the back of the mission hospital with an English woman. Helen was a difficult character, a woman who played There’ll Always Be An England every Sunday morning and corrected Melitta and me if we didn’t display perfect English manners. The work we did was challenging, and the nuns’ rules could feel petty. Melitta and I bonded over a daily beer and shared stories of our patients. Occasionally, a European teacher or an agriculturalist would turn up to take us to a party on a weekend and we would laugh and dance as though we had few cares. Melitta and I still drink beer, dance and laugh outrageously. Helen, however, took God’s wedding ring and joined the convent. Matrine was another Zambian friend. She was a law student when we me...

Poor environment, bad weather or dismal economic opportunities can all lead someone to pack their bags and push off to a new life.   When this happens, we leave with optimism for change, opportunity, sunshine, the good things of life. Sometimes, we believe that leaving home will somehow change us. This is not uncommon after a loss such as death, divorce or redundancy. In this situation, we often travel alone. There are no compromises to be made when you travel solo. This type of travel is about escaping, changing surroundings and our daily schedules and gaining freedom from whatever we feel chains us. However, we can be pulled towards the new, because that is where we want to be. Escaping in the name of adventure. Heading out to an airport, train station or long-range bus terminal can give some of us a thrill. Escaping to where no one knows your name.   Oftentimes, we are warned against this type of journey. However, as Paul Coelho points out: “If you think adventure is da...

Have you ever taken off at the last minute just because you wanted to? From experience, I can say that it is nothing but liberating. It could be by car, train or airplane. You might not know exactly where you are going or how long you will be there, but you will feel free. I did this when I had finished the long slog that was midwifery school and I wanted to be as far away from any medical establishment as I could get. I bought a month long European train ticket and headed first to San Sebastian on the Bay of Biscay. I have no idea what took me there, but it had a beautiful wide beach and, after the dark Scottish skies, I felt I could stand up straight and look out at the world. From there I journeyed through France, Italy and, of course, Greece, taking my time to watch people and lose myself in places that were not my home. There were a few moments when men caused hassle, but I learned to stay calm and remote. Tell nothing about yourself or make up a fake friend you are meeting. I too...

 How does travel change us? It's a terrific question with so many answers. Personally, travel made me realise that the world I grew up in doesn't always get things right. Many of us assume that our way of living is the correct one. Everyone else, all those foreigners, well they don't live like us so they must be doing something wrong. The result makes us terribly arrogant. My first experience of working overseas was as a volunteer midwife in Zambia. I was 23 and believed that I could use my Scottish education and save Zambian women and children from death and disease. All I had to do was work hard. Then reality hit. I was given a ward with 24 beds and 36 patients - some patients shared beds while others lay on mattresses on the floor. Many of the 36 patients had brought their children to the hospital with them. Given the overcrowding, my instinct was to tell the women to send them home. I had so much to learn, and thankfully I listened when someone said, "Don't try...