The Toll
As much as I hate to say it, sometimes you need to take a little break.
80 days of continuous travel through 8 countries. 149 cumulative hours on 42 different buses, 50 hours on 8 trains, 40 hours on 12 airplanes, and 16 hours on a boat.
The constant search for a place to stay. In the two and a half months of travel, the longest I’ve stayed in one hotel is 3 nights. Never the comfort of home, of your own bed. And in some, outright discomfort: bad bed, smelly room, noisy street, too cold, too hot, mosquitoes, no hot shower, creepy neighborhood. Waking up in the middle of the night in a start: where in the world am I?
The hunt for adequate food. In some places relatively easy, but in others decidedly not. Menus (when they have them) in foreign languages. Waiters that don’t speak English. Hygienic conditions that are suspect. The occasional rebellion of your taste buds, or worse, of your stomach.
Living out of a backpack. A few clothes, a few possessions. No variety. The logistics of laundry, rendered all the more difficult by the constant moving.
The toll of human interaction. Fighting off hawkers, vendors, taxi drivers and con artists. Greeting the genuinely friendly and curious. Trying to correctly distinguish between the two. Introducing yourself for the thousandth time. Accosting stranger after stranger on the street, camera in hand, smile in the other. Reassuring the skeptical, mollifying the hostile. Knowing when to skedaddle.
The hassle of finding the right bus or train, elbowing through crowds, avoiding getting ripped off by taxis, worrying about your bags, your pockets, your funds.
Ah, but the adventure!
Nevertheless, after the frenetic pace of travel in India my arrival in the Senegal prompted a deep desire to simply rest for a bit. Crash, actually. And rest I did: found my way to the beach in Cap Skirring, in the south. Slept. Read a book or three. Went running and worked out on the beach every morning. Ate good food. Didn’t touch my camera.
Three days later, I’d had enough rest.
Back to the travel!
Being constantly on the move in unfamiliar places where every day is different and all human interaction is “single serving friends” will do something to the psyche – even to the most adamant loner. Rendering, in due time, feelings of homelessness and desolation. The presence of a familiar face can relinquish this, but upon its absence, make it worse. And the camera is no longer their lover, but becomes the master, constantly driving them to keep moving, get a better shot, try this, watch out for that…
It’s all very simple to remedy, short of a familiar face, lots of sunshine, food and rest. A keen eye can see all this happening through the photos taken – a photographer who is at peace has creativity which is reflected in beautiful enigmatic shots; one who is discontent becomes unable to fully appreciate where they are and the photos are less dramatic – a terrible loss of productivity for one on a schedule.
Glad you’re feeling better Gabriel, always remember to savor the moment and have some fun
Yeah, I’ve found my limit is about a month. Can’t imagine a whole year!
Wise words, J. A little sun, sand, beach and boxing and I’m as good as new! 😉
Love that little cute Yikes-Stop image.
Remember, rest and activity!
Dur dur d’être un aventurier tous les jours …. Mais je te confirme que tu t’en sors extrèmement bien car grace à tes explications saisissantes, j’ai l’impression d’y être … épuisée de toujours changer de lit, gênée par l’omniprésence d’un tube digestif rebelle, un sourire crispé etc. ! COURAGE tu arrives bientôt dans le plus arriéré des pays … la France et qui sait peut-être la provence !!!! et là adieu à Internet pendant quelques jours -P
Ah oui, la France ca va etre bien dur, mais il faut bien que quelqu’un le fasse. [soupir] 😉