I could say that the closest I've ever been to miserable was my short stint in Lima, Peru. Not until recently could I figure out what was wrong; Sure, I was broke, but making my way in an unknown city was just another challenge. I was working as a teacher, which is both a fulfilling and humbling experience. The simple act of traveling to and from work was an adventure: Riding decrepit combi buses filled beyond capacity, negotiating the fare with ornery ticket men, and seeing the neighborhoods of one of South America's most expansive cities. I was living in a hostel, surrounded by travelers who told stories over beers and had few cares in the world but to make the next bus. I had found people who shared my situation, and we lamented our lives while converting temporarily to alcoholics and drug addicts. Why in the world were we so sad?
Several times in my young adult life I have been approached with this question, but coming from a very distinct person than myself.
"I am only 33 years old and I am very successful," the man on the bar stool next to me said. He offered me another drink and looked out to DC's frozen night air. "I've done what I was told to do. I completed the equation. A, B then C. I've been to college, went to grad school, and now I have walked my way up a corporate ladder nearly to the top. I've got money, I've got stability, I've got everything I was told I would want. Tell me then," he said, choking back tears, "why aren't I happy?"
A couple more people, all strangers, have confided this to me. Just recently, a close personal friend had a similar breakdown. "Tell me Jenny," she said amongst sobs, "why do you do it? Why do you travel? Do you just feel unsatisfied?" She went on to explain her discontented state of being in the same job, the same city, the same life for most of her 20s. "I envy your freedom," she said.
After thoughtfully absorbing the story, I tell each person the same thing: take the money you've saved up, leave the dog/kids/condo and take off for warmer waters. So to speak. Surely there are several ways to find the peace of mind these people seek: Meditation, volunteerism, extreme sports, religion; Travel is my personal solution, because that's what I've always done and I've always found myself to be content.
Until Lima, that is. I thought about the life my friend had made for herself in San Francisco; She had a cozy apartment and a fantastic family and a great group of friends. Not until after our encounter had it occurred to me what had been missing all the time I was abroad. It wasn't that I was alone, because I wasn't. It wasn't that the city of Lima was an overcasted, polluted and noisy mess. It wasn't that I was broke, or that I was forced to watch my traveling peers move on to new places at their own leisure. It's that I hadn't doubled over in laughter; I hadn't danced wildly; I rarely met someone for lunch to share news and light gossip; I hadn't sung my favorite song at the top of my lungs. My spirit was starved dry of authenticity and genuniness of self.
My friend should travel for a while, and when she does she will realize that what she was looking for was right in front of her all along. For that, I envy her.
