Imens jeg prøver at komme over mit omvendte (og desværre stadigt eksisterende) kulturchok efter mit relativt korte USA-eventyr, har jeg tænkt meget over følgevirkningerne af turen og hvordan den har påvirket mig. Nej, faktisk over effekterne af alle mine ture. Mine eventyr, som jeg ynder at kalde dem i daglig tale. Godt nok har det ikke altid indebåret regnbuer og candyfloss-farvede græsmarker, men det har været mindeværdigt. Selv alle de katastrofale og ulykkelige øjebikke. Up's and down's. Og det er vel det, det hele handler om, ikke sandt? Og nu, nu skal det handle om det at rejse. Jeg vil jo så gerne have en rejseblog og det nytter jo ikke noget, at jeg kun skriver, når jeg er on the road. Refleksionerne hører vel også med, og eftersom jeg er i Danmark, er der jo ikke mange eventyr at rapportere om i skrivende stund. Så jeg vil bruge tiden på at reflektere lidt over det at rejse.
Folk har ofte spurgt mig om, hvorfor jeg godt kan lide at rejse. Især mine gamle klassekammerater fra min gymnasieklasse, der blandt andet ikke kunne forstå at jeg gad tage en måned til Spanien for at lave noget "så kedeligt som at studere spansk". Og jeg har længe ikke vidst, hvad mit svar burde være. Jeg kan godt lide at se ting, jeg aldrig har set før. Den første gang, man ser et berømt vartegn, for at nævne et eksempel. Jeg glemmer i hvert fald aldrig det øjeblik, hvor jeg, totalt overgearet og lykkelig, så Big Ben for første gang i horisonten med mine nye venner på sprogrejsen til England. Jeg glemmer i hvert fald heller aldrig den ubeskrivelige følelse jeg fik, da jeg stod ud af bussen på Times Square omgivet af 120 andre ekstatiske piger fra alle afkroge af verden. Men det bedste ved at rejse? Mennesker. Forskellighed. Mangfoldighed. Det bedste ved at rejse er alle de mennesker, man møder på sin vej. Sådan er det i hvert fald for mig. Jeg fanger tit mig selv i at tænke 'hvordan har jeg været så heldig at få lov til at blive beriget med dette menneskes selskab?' Jeg har også tit tænkt 'åh gud, hvad skal jeg gøre for at slippe af med hende her?' Man må jo tage det sure med det søde.
Om det var den ekstremt stereotypiske russiske pige, hvis selvlærte engelsk klart overtrumfede mit og alle de andre studerendes, om det var den israelske fyr, hvis skriftsprog decideret lignede volapyk for os andre, om det var den pige, der, da jeg mødte hende i Skotland, ikke kunne svare på spørgsmålet om, hvor hun kom fra, da hun ikke vidste, hvad hun skulle kalde for hjem, eftersom hendes forældre ejede huse i Los Angeles, Christchurch og London, om det var den fremmede mand i Texas, jeg endte med at støde tilfældigt på to gange og som, på trods af ikke at kende mig, alligevel satte sig ned og tog sig tid til at snakke med mig om det at være væk hjemmefra.
Det er næsten underordnet. Det fascinerende ved at møde nye og anderledes mennesker er deres historie. Hvem de er, hvor de kommer fra, hvem de gerne vil være og hvor de skal hen. Og hvorfor de er her. Der er altid dem, der overrasker mig; dem der ikke passer ind i den kasse, man på forhånd har placeret dem i og man derfor er tvunget til at kasserere de fordomme, man havde om dem. Der er dem, der, når jeg har sagt farvel til dem, har efterladt mig med en tom og opgivende følelse - det værste ved at knytte sig til folk, som man har eventuelt kun har kendt i et par dage, det er tanken om at man ikke har en jordisk chance for at vide, om man nogensinde ser dem igen eller om man overhovedet kommer til at holde kontakten. Heldigvis træder den følelse for det meste i baggrunden og bliver erstattet af en anden; følelsen man får, når man opdager at man lige har fået en ven for livet - oftest på den allermest tilfældige måde. Venner, som du ved altid vil være der for dig, selvom afstanden mellem jer er enorm. Derfor er det min yndlingsting ved at rejse. Venskaberne, historierne og de lange samtaler til langt ud på natten med mennesker, du ikke kender.. men alligevel aldrig har lyst til at forlade igen.
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While I'm still trying to deal with
my reverse culture shock, I've had a lot of time on my hands to think and
reflect on the thoughts and the speculations that my stay in Texas
has undoubtedly left me with. Which made me reflect on all of my
adventures. Because that's what they've been. Adventures. Not exactly the kind
of candy floss pink fairytales with unicorns at the end of the rainbow, but
adventures. Journeys. They have all been memorable, even the many moments of
sadness, giving up and just plain out irrationality. The up's and down's. It
all counts. And really, that's what it's all about, isn't it? That's what this
is gonna be about. Travelling. Afterall, I do claim this to be a travel blog,
so why not use my travels as an inspiration, even when I'm not on the road? All
the aftermath is just as much a part of it as the physical journey itself. The
reflections are a part of it and since I'm currently back in Denmark, those
delightful travel-related experiences are out of the picture. So for now I'll
spend the time reflecting on the thing that is to travel.
I've
often had people asking me why I like travelling so much. Especially my old
high school classmates. Some of them simply couldn't comprehend why I bothered
living in Spain for a month for something as boring as that of studying
Spanish. For a long time I didn't know the answer. I still don't. Sometimes I ask
myself the same questions. Then I think back and remember all the feelings, the
people, the adrenaline. Suddenly, I don't remember why I ever had any doubts. I
like seeing things for the first time. The first time you see a famous
landmark, for instance. One thing is for sure, I'll never ever forget the first
time I saw Big Ben. I was with my new friends and my international class and we
had anticipated the moment for what felt like years. It was breathtaking. I'm
also positive I'll never forget the moment I stepped out of the bus at Times
Square at nighttime. But my favorite part of it all? People. Diversity. Multiplicity. The
best part of travelling is all the people you'll meet. Sometimes I catch myself
thinking 'how on earth have I deserved to be blessed with the company of this
person?' Other times, I catch myself thinking 'oh dear god, how am I gonna get
rid of this person?' No light without darkness.
Whether
it was the extremely stereotypical Russian girl, whose self-taught English
without a doubt made the rest of us feel utterly inferior, the Israeli guy
whose written language literally looked like nonsense to me, the girl, who,
when I met her in Scotland, couldn't quite provide me with an answer to my
question of where's she's from, as her parents own houses in Los Angeles, Christchurch
and London or whether it was the stranger in Texas I accidentally ran into
twice, who, despite not knowing me, still took the time to sit down with me to
discuss the subject of being away from home.
It
doesn't matter. The fascinating thing about meeting new people is their story.
Everybody's got a story. As it turned out, the stranger in Texas was in fact
not Texan; he was from Wisconsin and even though he hadn't even left American
soil, he agreed that Texas does feel like a different planet. We all have a
story. I did too. He felt drawn to ask me about mine because I was on Skype
speaking a language he could make no sense of. Our story. Who we are. Where
we're from. Who we want to be and where we're going. And most importantly of
all, why we're here. There are always people who manages to surprise me:
they're the ones that doesn't fit into the box you've already put them in even
before they've opened their mouth and you therefore have to dispose of all your
prejudice. There are the ones, who, right after I've said goodbye to them, have
left me with an empty feeling - the worst thing about bonding with people you
have possibly just known for a few days is not knowing when you'll see them
again. Or if you'll ever see them again. Fortunately, that feeling tends to
fade and turn into another; the feeling you have when you realize that you've
possibly just gained a friend for life. Usually in the most random way
possible. A friend you know will always be there for you even though the
distance between you is four-digit number. That is why it's my favorite thing
about travelling. The friendships, the stories and those hour long
conversations in the middle of the night with people you're only just getting
to know but somehow never feel like you want to leave.
