Fear as a Locked Door - The Fate of Spontaneous Travel

“I think money is shit. You know… how much you spend on a thing… If I spend a couple thousand dollars on sushi for two, I don’t feel guilty about that. I do find that my happiest moments on the road are not standing on the balcony of a really nice hotel. That’s a sort of bittersweet, if not melancholy, alienating experience, at best. My happiest moments on the road are always off-camera, generally with my crew, coming back from shooting a scene and finding ourselves in this sort of absurdly beautiful moment, you know, laying on a flatbed on those things that go on the railroad track, with a putt-putt motor, goin’ across like, the rice paddies in Cambodia with headphones on… this is luxury, because I could never have imagined having the freedom or the ability to find myself in such a place, looking at such things. To sit alone or with a few friends, half-drunk under a full moon, you just understand how lucky you are; it’s a story you can’t tell. It’s a story you almost by definition, can’t share. I’ve learned in real time to look at those things and realize: I just had a really good moment.”

–Anthony Bourdain

My husband and I sharing the best Korean hot pot I have ever had with our new friend near Katsuura Port, Japan

I remember the freedom I felt in Honduras as a young 20-something Peace Corps Volunteer. Once I felt more comfortable in my new home, I let my intuition guide me and would hitchhike into Tegucigalpa, the capital, from my small community down the road. Or I would put my Tevas on, throw some water and a snack in a backpack, and walk the 5 km trek to a neighboring community. I would hike an hour to check on a family and marvel at their big, gorgeous mango tree full of ripe mangoes hopeful for a bag as a parting gift after a pleasant visit.

I was fearless! So fearless that when an old friend came to visit me in Honduras, we created a game to see how far we could travel up Central America and Mexico by hitchhiking rides with kind strangers before we would have to rely on paid local transportation. If you have never experienced the thrill of riding in the back of a pickup bed holding on for your dear life as the truck skirts sharp turns on narrow mountain highway roads, you have not lived! Please add this simple delight to your bucket list immediately!

It was easy to procur a ride in Honduras and in El Salvador. People were SO nice in El Salvador that we barely had to lift our thumb and our hosts offered us drinks in the back of the truck bed! But as we made our way further north, we found it harder to get a ride.

We had to take our first bus in Guatemala. Then, by the time we found ourselves about 30km outside of Palenque, Mexico, with the sun setting through the jungle around us, we were definitely questioning the wisdom of our decision to not just take the bus into town. We were debating whether we should prepare to camp with the howler monkeys for the night or start walking when our ride angel, Carlos, appeared! And the best part is that I remember him being such a funny and kind man that we were laughing the whole ride to Palenque--a treasured vivid memory from 20+ years ago!

What a lesson! At the time, my 22 year old self just saw it all as a game. But when I think back on that adventure, I see layers of meaning. The kindness to strangers seems to come so easily to people who rely on it daily. It was a common praactice to offer and accept rides in my community and surrounding communities in Honduras. Like many other life-sustaining needs, it was essential to be open to the give and take with your neighbors or no one would thrive at all!

But as personal wealth grew among individuals in communities, their need for the give and take with their neighbors waned. They could take care of their needs themselves and they did! As more and more individuals acquired a higher level of wealth, their interactions with their neighbors dwindled. This lack of interaction and common need eventually led to a fading trust in their neighbors.

It was the fear of the stranger that made it difficult for my friend and I to obtain rides easily in wealthier countries. It was the fear of others affecting their level of wealth that kept people from stopping. And the cruel irony is that the more we accumulate, the more vulnerable and fearful we feel. And in this fear, we have grown more isolated.

If only people understood that the thrill of the adventure extends to the hosts as well as the hitchhiker! I still keep in touch with my hippie friends that shared my car with me on the long trip from Medford, Oregon down to San Francisco. As I dropped them off in Redding, California on Thanksgiving day, they left me with hugs and a slice of pumpkin pie to keep me going on my journey!

Another time, my friend and I rode in the back of an empty banana track heading back to Guatemala to refill their cargo bed. I can't tell you the details regarding how we scored such a unique scenic ride across the Guatemalan countryside, but I can still feel the joy and exhilaration we experienced that day knowing that our ride was a once in a lifetime experience. And I truly believe that the driver also enjoyed his day a little more by sharing his kindness. He was reminded of the joy of the ride through our shared experience.

I could share so many more spontaneous travel stories from befriending locals in Osaka, Japan to being gifted a special boat ride to see majestic pink flamingoes in my friend's family boat in Rio de Largartos, Mexico. I know we are more willing to be vulnerable and open to say, “YES!” to new experiences and to try new things when we are traveling. So I ask, is this still the case?

With the ability to plan and book a trip in minute detail on the internet, the capability to preview future experiences beforehand, and then, the power to use technology to be engulfed in personal entertainment through smartphone streaming and noise-cancelling earphones along the journey, does spontaneous adventure travel still occur? Are we still open to these unplanned “intrusions” that are gateways to these delightful unexpected experiences?

Is it technology's fault or really just ours alone? As I get older and wealthier, I can pay for efficiency and comfort. Spontaneous travel does not guarantee comfort and many times, we are proportionately rewarded by our level of discomfort. Am I more untrusting due to age, wealth, and perceived experiences? Does this ruin my chances of being open enough to allow random encounters in my life, even while I am traveling?

Anthony Bourdain speaks a lot of the joy of chance encounters and human connection as the soul of travel.

What do you think about this? Are we losing the soul of travel in our modern travel frenzy?