Around the World, and Not So Far

Everybody wants to see the world. Well, almost everybody. Most people want to see the world. Well, I don’t know about most, but a lot of people do. It is a common wish of many people to see the world. There, perfect. Good enough. Whatever…

People want to see the world and all it has to offer. We live in a vast world of many different people and places. Beautiful people with expansive histories, delicious food, and a culture that is as unique to them as it is relatable to others. Beautiful places with growing cities, timeless nature, and experiences all waiting for us to witness and partake. There is this universal craving that people want to see new things, try new things, and come back home from their travels a more fulfilled person than before they left.

That is why so many bucket lists are filled with destinations more than actions. So many of our desires in the time we are given in life revolve around traveling the globe, capturing magnificent views, and experiencing the uniqueness that can only be appreciated in one specific place on the map. If you have the explorer in you, these words probably do not scrape the surface of your desires, or what it means to you to travel.

While there is an unspeakable comfort in staying home, doing less, and living a simple life, that does not eliminate the desire to leave home for a while and experience somewhere new. On more than one occasion, I have been blessed with such chances. A few of these occasions, funnily enough, I was in the comfort of my home when the opportunities struck me.

I was given an opportunity to go to Costa Rica because I read an email that I should have ignored. When I was in college, every week my inbox would be blasted with notifications and announcements from different groups at my school. I mostly ignored these emails at the time. I felt too busy to be bothered by them: Busy with my class schedule, work schedule, and what I thought to be a massive social life. And the rare times I would skim these emails, I was uninterested in what the headlines had to say. However, on one random occasion and for no particular reason, I took the time to open one, and then took more time read it fully. Everything happens for a reason, and I am grateful every day for that.

This email that I should have ignored contained an advertisement for a study abroad program in Costa Rica. It was outside of my major, and I never would have heard about it aside from this email. I read more, I asked questions, I applied, I was accepted, and I went. In this part of the story, those are all the details that matter. The only regret I have looking back on this time in my life is wondering what other chances I missed in those ignored emails.

Costa Rica is a breathtaking country. When we were anywhere outside of the city of San Jose, we were near mountains, forests, or waterfalls; sometimes, all three together. Our casual commutes started to feel like wild adventures, especially when we had a chance to get off of our bus, go exploring, and forget everything else in the world that was not right around us in that moment. I remember a few specific views - an overlook atop Monte Verde, the Pacific Ocean from Jaco Beach, the crater at the top of the Poas Volcano, or a hill over the neighborhood we lived - where looking at them, nothing else in life mattered in that moment except for the beauty in front of me.

Let alone the fantastic sights of nature, I had the pleasure to meet some of the wisest and kindest people. No, not every person there was a philosopher, and some conversations were less than pleasant, but I had more than one casual conversation that unexpectedly taught me a lesson in life I did not expect to hit me so close to home. Most of the people we met did not tell their wisdom outright, but rather shared it by displaying it. They lived simply and they lived well, and they led by example. They lived in the present with a focus on being positive to their environment around them. They took things slowly, and appreciated the small things; and they showed that the small things are not so small. In every way, my time in Costa Rica taught me lessons that I have made an effort to continue to live by. It is an effort that rises and falls, and like many other efforts in life I have failed and forgotten it more than once, but I am greater for the effort alone.

Like Hawaii has “aloha,” Costa Rica has “pura vida.” Pura vida means “pure life.” It is how one can say hello or goodbye, how one can celebrate and profess joy to those around them. But it is more than a phrase, because it is a very true encapsulation of the way of life I experienced in Costa Rica: Pure.

Though Costa Ricans have adopted “pura vida” as their phrase, I have come to learn that much of Central America holds the idea of pure life close to their hearts, for the same reasons. Pure in what you eat, pure in what you say, pure in how you treat yourself and others, and pure in how you spend your time. Maybe one day I will be so lucky to return to that wonderful part of our world. Until then, I will keep those lessons close to my heart, and live a pure life. Pura vida.

Years later, when the impact of my trip to Costa Rica had settled into memory, a close friend of mine called me. I answered the call from the comfort of my home, only a few feet away from where I read that email I should have ignored. As suddenly and unexpectedly as I had the opportunity to go to Costa Rica, he invited me to Montreal, Quebec.

He had planned a trip with someone else, who at the last minute had to cancel. If I could not go, he could not go, as he needed to split costs with someone. I told him that I would think about it, and we hung up the phone. I really, really wanted to go. But there was a problem: Another phone call to be made.

I had to call another friend of mine and have a difficult conversation. We already had some travel plans that overlapped with my chance to go to French Canada. These plans had no bookings or reservations, we had more of an idea than an itinerary. But they were plans. I told him the situation of the sudden invitation and expressed plainly that I couldn’t pass this up. With some disappointment in his voice, he told me that he understood, as good friends often do. As fate would have it, we would travel together numerous times, and the loss of this one trip was never a weight on our friendship.

I called back my other friend with my answer, and I heard the excitement in his voice. Not long after that, we went to Montreal. Yet again, I was enthralled with this new place in a way that I forgot was possible. On the map, Montreal felt so close to my home, and yet again I felt like I was in a whole new world.

The streets of Montreal were packed, yet calm. They say Montreal is as close to a European city as exists in North America. I see what they mean, both in the layout of the city and the culture that fills it up. The old stone buildings stood side by side with the modern towers seamlessly, like the perfect blend of old majesty with modern advancement. People’s lives and attitudes seemed to match the architecture: Modern lifestyles with an abundant appreciation for the ways of old.

The people of Montreal knew how to live. They socialized in the day as much as the night, and you could tell that friendship was a cultural priority over most everything else. People didn’t rush away to the next thing - not even during the work week - but took their time in each moment. Everyone walked as much as their commute allowed. On our first day there, we found ourselves walking much faster than those around us. I like to think it is because we were tall and had longer legs, but it is likely because we were trained to rush as Americans. After we adjusted to the local pace, we enjoyed our surroundings far more each day, having more time to notice things we would have otherwise walked past with haste.

Despite French stereotypes that we liked to laugh about, the people we met were kind and personable. They appreciated us as outsiders in town for a visit, and were happy to teach us about the area and the language. We met strangers on a train, who without hesitation invited us out with them. We met another group of friends who got to know us, gave us some recommendations of places to go, and even played some jokes by teaching me inappropriate phrases in French (that I repeated without hesitation). Not everyone was perfect, and not every moment was lovely, but the people we met were genuinely good to us.

There is something so special about sharing your life story with a stranger in a new city, almost a greater honesty in the way you speak knowing that you may never see this person again. We spoke about ourselves in ways we may not have fully embraced at home. I try to remember this version of myself that I talked about, and live my life in a way that gets me closer to it. A few people shared with us their life stories too: Where they were from, how they made it to Montreal, and what they hoped for their lives. In doing so, they also showed us what mattered to them, and how they prioritized those things every day. I often wonder how they are doing, and if their lives remain as peaceful as they seemed. Much like pura vida, I am greater for the effort to live like Montreal even if I fall short here at home.

I could probably write whole books on my trips to Costa Rica and Montreal. That is not what I’m here to do (right now, anyway). I appreciate so much of those and other adventures I’ve been lucky enough to go on, and maybe one day will write more about those other adventures too. But the things I remember most are the chance encounters with locals, the once in a lifetime conversations when our paths crossed. When I think of them, I do not remember every detail, but I remember how I felt when I heard stories about their lives, their homes, and their recommendations of what to do while I visit. I do not believe I am alone in that opinion.

But think, for a moment, if a traveler from across the globe was visiting your home. If you were in a coffee shop, or a bar, and they began a conversation with you about your home, what would you say? Would you know the history? Would their research about their vacation give them more knowledge than you have? Would you know which cool spots to send them to? Would you be the kind of tour guide that they would tell stories about? Would you send them home with a memory they would carry forever?

As an unmarried person who is also not dating at the time of writing this, I have always enjoyed the phrase and idea of “dating your wife.” It is a simple lesson that applies to both men and women, that when you finally marry the person of your dreams, do not stop the romantic gestures, the efforts great and small, that made them want to marry you. It is a phrase that should apply to many aspects of life: If you have worked hard enough to earn something, keep doing the things you did to earn it in the first place.

So before you travel the world and return home with pictures, stories, and souvenirs, travel the world around you: Your city, your town, your home. Think about the recommendations you would like on vacation and go live them as a local. Being a tourist in your own city is a lot like dating your wife: Your marriage with your home will be a much happier one.

The next time you think about traveling the world, do it. Try not to say no, to the best of your ability, and go enjoy every corner on this magnificent planet we are blessed to be a part of. But before you do that, do not neglect the piece of the world that is your own. It is your world, after all, and remember to breath it in with the same fascination and appreciation as someone visiting for the first time. Do it slowly, intentionally, and be present in these moments. You will be happier for it.