It’s been a full week here in Kinsale, Ireland and a month since
we’ve been home. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I’d
wanted and expected from this “adventure” and because our computer
crashed and has been in the shop, making it impossible to work, surf the
internet, listen to music or watch movies, I’ve had a lot of time
to ponder. My big revelation after all this thinking is that travel in
your 20s is very different from travel in your 30s. This may sound like
an obvious observation and one I probably should have considered before
embarking on this move to Ireland, but it really is impossible to know
how you might respond to such a situation until you’re smack in the
middle of it.
To clarify, when I recall why and how I traveled in my 20s, I realize that I was often inspired to trek through Europe or uproot to Korea because I was “sick and tired”: of my dead-end job, life in NYC, poverty, inertia, etc. In other words, I traveled to seek escape. I was enamored with the idea of anonymity, of the opportunity to reinvent myself and create a brand new life. So it was not enough to take a vacation like normal people; the steps would be necessarily dramatic. I’d quit my job, sell off my possessions and just go. But it wasn’t just a case of “the grass is always greener.” I sincerely believed that travel made you stronger and more interesting, resilient and wise, and clever enough to unravel that post-adolescent dilemma of “finding yourself.” And if this could be accomplished while sipping red wine and eating baguettes with a beret perched prettily on your head, all the better.
So when, Chris (who also believed that travel was the magic balm that could cure one of a humdrum existence), walked into the room one night saying, “I need a change or else I’ll have to have an affair and buy a Porsche when I’m 40,” I began to stroke the embers of my love of travel. After all, weren’t we at heart reckless vagabonds? I even thought for a moment that I was 24 years old again and insisted on only bringing backpacks. It was wonderful again to be YOUNG! CAREFREE! ADVENTUROUS! The response from friends and (select) family only helped to fan the flames. They would shake their heads, grin in envy and say, “You guys are crazy! I’m so jealous! If only I didn’t have_____________ (fill in the blank).” We actually felt smug and brave, like we possessed some superhuman power beyond that of just buying a plane ticket.
The first sign that we were no longer 24 should have been the fact that it took four of the biggest men I’d ever seen to clear out our condo. The selling of the condo and move made me realize how much “stuff” one can acquire in a very short span of time. Sign #2 should have been the moment it was determined that I could not function with less than five pairs of shoes or that Chris just had to bring his Henckels 5 Star knife set and a state of the art laptop. Needless to say, the notion of “traveling light” was quickly dashed.
I understand now why people, as they grow older, choose not to move about anymore. It’s not necessarily that they are dull and set in their ways (although there are a few of that type, too), but as you get older, you accumulate – not just homes and money and furniture and books, but friendships, family, job experience, a history, and after 31 years of development, I am just finally starting to figure out who I am. I don’t want to be anonymous anymore. I don’t want to reinvent myself. After all, through mistakes, hard work and determination, it’s a history that I’ve earned. It’s not that I stopped seeking romance and excitement, but that I felt truly passionate and involved in the day to day drama of my life and work in Chicago.
This realization becomes more apparent here in Kinsale. It’s beautiful and peaceful, but being a tourist town, it’s also difficult to make friends. They look at Americans as a transient group and express indifference at our overtures of friendship. Furthermore, it is a close community so an Us vs. Them mentality prevails. We’ve already knocked on 30 doors trying to drum up interest in our website development services and have only been met with discouragement. The reading groups are full and no one has responded to my supermarket posting to start a new one. My volunteer services are not required. They don’t need Chris’ help at the bookstore. The overall feeling is that the locals are waiting for the cocky Americans to fail and inevitably, go away.
But in fairness, wasn’t it in part, arrogance that fueled this move? The idea of moving to a quaint town, of slowing down and taking it easy was certainly part of the appeal. It’s not like we came here to dig ditches or save seal pups. And no one makes this sort of life change anticipating failure. Though it’s been hard for an uptight, urbanite, workaholic like me to adapt to all of this “down time,” my feelings for Kinsale aren’t all negative. There are moments when we can peek out from beneath the bell jar and feel that we have made the absolute right decision. Last night we experienced our first sing-a-long; a pub full of old and young, locals and tourists sitting in a circle around a father and son folk singing team as they led us in a series of traditional Irish tunes. They finished with the Irish national anthem and everyone put down their pints, stood up and filled the room with thunderous song. Walking up the hill on the way home the streets were calm and quiet and clean and we looked up to see stars we’d never seen before. So I’m not saying don’t travel or only take two week vacations (yet), but that (sob), I’m no longer 24 and a 24 year-old’s motives for travel no longer apply. As my expectations for this “adventure” continue to evolve, I will need to find new reasons for staying.
I remember when I first moved back to Chicago my brother Kyung and I had a row about how after 10 years away from home, I had returned and in my oldest child way, was upsetting the family balance. Of my return he said “I don’t know what you are trying to accomplish with this little experiment of yours, but some people actually live here!” The words stung, but he was right. We had never intended on staying in Chicago. We had never intended on buying a yuppie loft. Chris never thought he’d end up in web production or that I’d end up in the restaurant industry. And yet four years later, while packing up our boxes I realized that I had finally cracked that post-adolescent riddle.
Sitting here in Kinsale, without friends, family, a job or even a blanket to call my own, I wonder what this town could possibly offer me. What kind of job would I tolerate doing? How much pride will I sacrifice in pursuing friendships? Do I really want to “slow down”? Is a quiet, modest life really better? Shouldn’t I have thought all this through before coming here? Shouldn’t these answers come more easily? After all, I know who I am and what I want, right?
On the other hand, it took me a trip across the globe to realize it. Perhaps I do have a bit of youthful adventure in me yet.