Travelling, is it worth it?

It is clear, to most people who have been following me, that my time in London has come to an end for now. It came to an end roughly ten months ago, when I left for a brief visit to Normandy before returning to Australia for Christmas with my family. London was great, full of ups and downs and plenty of other experiences. I also lived in Glasgow and Paris and further took a hit of that sweet sweet other culture. Most of all, I did a lot of growing up. I learnt how to find a place to live all on my own, how to find work on short notice, how to make friends, how to provide and maintain a somewhat healthy diet despite a limited base of cooking skills. I learnt about new and different cultures, and ways of living, things that I would not really have been necessarily exposed to if I'd stayed in Australia. But since I have returned to my homeland, I have been caught wondering if it was all worth it.

A dilemma that so often enters my mind, when I have little else to think about, is where do I want to be five years from now? Like a labrador on cocaine, it is often hard for me to keep my attention on some things for any length of time. If something begins to bore me, or becomes a bit too difficult for just a bit too long, then you may have lost me. My mind begins to wander and suddenly I'm somewhere else. I know there are plenty of people out there I am sure are sick of me asking "what?" after they've said something to me three times. To stop from digressing, this occasional inability to concentrate sometimes leads me to believe that I have wasted my time travelling. After nearly three years abroad, all I have to show for a university degree I received nearly four years ago is a handful of bar and labour jobs and a slightly broader understanding of the world beyond Adelaide.

So where do I want to be five years from now? Honestly, I have no idea. I have a family that suggests I should be well on my way into a career and a growing number of friends and acquaintances who are buying houses and getting married and seeming to hint that, at 25, I should be looking to plant my feet somewhere and settle down. Pressure is meant to build diamonds and yet somehow feel as if I'm about crumble and become some other kind of mineral. A bartender at 30 maybe, or a the guy who arrives to take away your old couch when you get a new one, whose hair is beginning to grey yet looks like his muscles belong to a early twenty year old? Is there anything wrong with that? A thirty year old bartender could surely be on their way to owning or running their own bar at thirty five. But it is true, I don't really want to be doing that. I wouldn't mind, but life is not about doing things you "wouldn't mind". No, a career sounds nice and I can't help but shake the feeling that I should have at least done something while abroad to increase my experience in the field of writing.

Despite the feeling of having wasted my time, I realise that my travels have still been a huge benefit to me. Like I said in the first paragraph, I grew up. Into a responsible adult? The jury is still out on that one. I believe that all through life you are going to have people who are critical of what you are doing and perhaps the feeling I'm experiencing these days stems from the pressure of those around me. Everyone who cares about me wants to see me succeed and be happy and everyone has a slightly different opinion on how that should be done. Overseas, I didn't feel this pressure as much. I felt as if I was scouting the globe a little for the right place I want to be. It isn't easy not knowing exactly you want to do in life and travelling made me feel at least a little useful. Of course there's an age where you'd want to have things figured out a bit and be taking steps in the right direction, but is that 25? The male brain only stops developing at around that age. Perhaps the crisis I'm feeling is a result of reaching that point where I should start being driven. But regardless of whether I'd traveled or not, there's every possibility that I'd have found myself sitting in front of my laptop wondering what the hell I'm doing anyway. At least I won't be wondering what it's like somewhere else as much.

And that is probably the point of travelling. You see the world. Yeah, I didn't get to as many countries as I'd have liked but at least I've experienced living somewhere else. I'm less quick to judge someone on their way of life as I have seen how different and radical other people's lives can be. I have a much more profound view of immigration and of the impact of terrorism. I have learnt how lucky Australian's are to live where they live and yet have become frustrated to learn that our government is just as messed up as everywhere else. And regardless of how nice Australia appears to be to a lot of the world, I have met so many people who believe Australia is not all that great and it's refreshing. Returning from abroad has opened my eyes on a lot of things about my homeland and although ignorance is bliss, I feel a lot wiser for being exposed to a different point of view. I'm glad that I've become a little more critical on the world around me as I am less likely to jump to conclusions. I'm sure there are plenty of people, from every walk of life, who have thought they were making the right decision, who perhaps bought a house, or got married, or had a kid, or followed a particular career path, only to to turn around one day, at 45 maybe, or at 30, or at 87, and think "Crap, I've wasted my time". There's no guarantee that you're going to be happy with the choices you make in life, regardless of how certain you were at the time of making one. All it can take for some people is a different perspective on something, or a lingering doubt, or an opinion from someone else, and it all comes unraveling. But at least I've traveled.

So is travelling worth it? Who the hell cares? Even though the above paragraphs may seem like they go along in my typical argumentative fashion (all doom and gloom and depressive until the argument is revealed at the end in a loose-linked kind of way), I believe that travelling is worth it and the question I should be asking is, perhaps, when should it stop? I have done a lot of growing up in the last few years and I am still relatively proud of what I've achieved. Regardless of my next step, my time abroad will always be there, influencing my opinions on things, shaping who I am, guiding me one way or another, and you won't have that later in life if you simply stay put. So, when should it end? Just watch this space.

AdzPapa