Train Yard by clyfhull
Poster printing by zazzle.ca
In the winter of 2004 I took my first true solitary adventure. I booked a flight from Vancouver to Tokyo and, as a pre-adventure, I bought a rail pass and spent two weeks crossing Canada from Halifax. I'd started a journal (my first travelogue) and, with the second entry, I gave it the same title I'm giving this post. For me it sums up the most attractive (and most terrifying) aspect of traveling. When I go somewhere new, I prefer to go in (almost) cold. Granted, I do still like to bring a travel guide - but I never make hotel reservations. If I've never been to a place, I have no idea in what part of town I'll want to stay. Anyway, the more pre-planning one does, the more they rob themselves of the immediacy of the experience. Traveling isn't (or shouldn't be) like everyday life. Most people (myself included) spend most of their lives in day-to-day routine. They get up, prepare for the day, go to work, eat, do whatever chores need to be done, entertain themselves in some way and sleep. Most people could probably lead their lives in their sleep. There's no real conscious effort (which isn't to say that it is necessarily easy.) When I travel, a good portion of every day is concerned with food and shelter. It is immediate and conscious thought, as opposed to the back-of-the-mind "rent's gotta be paid" and "it's Wednesday - time to go to the grocery store" variety. I think that, when one is too comfortable - when our basic needs are met with little effort, we lose touch with some primal instinct - something which keeps our focus sharp. Of course, it isn't easy to maintain such a focus. In fact, it can get exhausting. The trick is to strike a balance, because, after all, sometimes you just want to be in familiar surroundings and watch your favourite movies all day. That's when you return home (and crash at a friend's place because you gave up your apartment before you left.)
