I never really thought about it seriously until I got to India. I just always wanted to do it like T.E. Lawrence and Sir Richard Burton.

  You can be sitting there on a Indian train at a stop with people piling onboard. Next to you might plop an elderly gentleman in western slacks, a white short sleeve shirt and thick glasses. He will unabashedly turn to you after he has situated himself and ask outright, “What are you doing in my country?” The tone of voice is friendly but it’s such a startling way to make acquaintance that it comes off as rude to Westerners. Shake-n-howdy is supposed to be gentle and slow going, non-threatening, welcoming. This kind of question goes right to the meat of the matter in one fell swoop.

  It all depended on the person asking how I would respond. If I didn’t have a good first impression, I’d say something like, “To rob a bank.” One time my flippancy shamed me deeply. It was on the train from Dehli to Mumbai. The questioner, probably for no actual reason outside my taste in people, appeared unpleasant. I was beat tired. To put him off, I said, “To lose weight.” The moment I mouthed it, I regretted it. He accepted my callous response with grace, opened his Times of India and didn‘t speak another word to me. There I sat, a long-haired child of the ‘60’s, as ugly an American as any picture taking, loud talking tourista clad in shorts and Hawiian shirt.

  But if I was intrigued by the asker in any kind of way, I’d want to answer him well. In a land of such widespread poverty, it seemed pretty frivolous to say I flew all that way just to vacation. I’ve always thought of myself as a traveler, not a mere tourist, but what did this actually mean? This sudden question always prompted a soul search when it came from the right person. Kind of like a Rime of the Ancient Mariner situation forced upon me.

              That moment that his face I see,
              I know the man that must hear me :
              To him my tale I teach.

  Why leave kith and kin behind? Why risk my life on jets and chicken buses? Why give up the familiarity of my language and culture? Why surrender my rights as a citizen and put myself under foreign jurisdiction? Why expose myself to strange diseases and parasites? Why spend so much money for such intangible gains as travel affords?

  I’ve served my country overseas. I’ve worked and studied abroad. I’ve vacationed in some hot spots.

  It all reminds me of Charles Darwin. He chopped and changed as a youth until his father secured him a position aboard the H.M.S.Beagle as biologist on a three year voyage to South America and the Galapagos Islands. He was considered a great traveler in his day. But when he got back to England, he settled down, married a cousin, started making babies and a theory of evolution. Positively hated the notion of travel and never wanted to leave Kent, even to go to London , a short train ride away.

  Some would say it was his health that put Darwin off of traveling. It’s true he suffered till death with intestinal difficulties acquired on his youthful adventures but I think it’s also deeper than that. He had discovered the universe opened at his feet and didn’t need to go any further than the nearest dung heap for the beetles that fascinated him. In other words, he discovered himself.

  And that’s what you do when you travel. You discover yourself in the flames of unfamiliarity and exoticism and adventure that foreign travel affords. Sages know it’s not required for self-realization. In fact, it can be a serious distraction. But that’s ultimately what travel is all about. Self-discovery. Self-realization. Self-actualization.

 The only thing I can add to that is, travelers are born storytellers. Or maybe it’s visa-versa. Anyway, by tradition, Homer wandered place to place. So did Hemmingway.

  Therefore, tomorrow morning in the wee hours, I fly to Guatemala with the woman of my dreams. We’ll experience many wonderful marvels. The end result will be that we know ourselves and each other better. Good times!

Marc Ladewig
Author of Odysseus-The Epic Myth of the Hero