I’ve been making good use of my passport lately. I use it to level shaky table legs and as a coaster. It’s a great toy for cats.
The epidemic of disappointments is upon us. Trips that were postponed or never planned for fear of being postponed. reunions with family, years spent studying abroad, and lazy beach vacations. Poof. Gone. wiped out by a tiny virus and the extensive list of nations where US passports are not accepted.
According to one report, only a third of Americans say they have traveled overnight for leisure since March, and only 38% say they are likely to do so by the end of the year. Only 25% of us intend to travel for Thanksgiving, which is typically the busiest travel time. The numbers depict our still lives in a gloomy light.
Being so sedentary is not something we should be doing. We are born to travel. Christopher Ryan writes in Civilized to Death that “we’ve lived as nomadic hunter-gatherers moving about in small bands of 150 or fewer people” for the majority of our species’ history. This life of commuting was not by chance. It was helpful. Moving to an adjoining band is generally a choice to try not to brew struggle or only for an adjustment of the social landscape,” says Ryan. More succinctly, Robert Louis Stevenson put it: The incredible undertaking is to move.”
But what if we are unable to move? What happens if we are unable to gather or hunt? What can a tourist do? There are numerous responses to that question. Despair,” however, isn’t one of them.
We are a species that adapts. We are able to tolerate brief periods of forced solitude. Self-delusion can be helpful. We tell ourselves that we are not grounded. Like the unemployed salesman in between opportunities, we are just in between trips. We spend our days poring over our Instagram feeds and old travel journals. We look at trinkets. All of this aids. for some time.
We presented brave faces. Staycation Nation” is declared cheerfully on the cover of the current issue of Canadian Traveller magazine, as if it were a choice rather than a consolation.
The industry trade association, the U.S. Travel Association, is launching a “Let’s Go There” national recovery campaign today. The initiative, which is supported by hotels, conventions, visitor bureaus, and airlines, aims to encourage Americans to turn their wanderlust into actual itineraries.
The tourism sector is suffering. Travelers are the same. I harped such a great amount on my mistake that it genuinely hurt,” Paris-based writer Joelle Diderich told me as of late, subsequent to dropping five excursions the previous spring.
(Related: How severe is the impact of the coronavirus on the travel industry? (These charts indicate.)
James Hopkins, a friend of mine, is a Buddhist who lives in Kathmandu. He would probably do well during the lockdown, which was sort of like a mandatory meditation retreat. He did for a while.
James, on the other hand, seemed frail and hopeless during a recent Skype call. He admitted that he was becoming more agitated and longed “for the old 10-countries-a-year schedule.” He informed me that nothing seemed to help. I just couldn’t change my habits, no matter how many candles I lit or incense I burned, even though I lived in one of South Asia’s most sacred places.
I felt relieved and my gloominess was validated when our call came to an end. This isn’t me; it’s a pandemic. But I was also anxious. What hope do the rest of us still souls have if a Buddhist in Kathmandu is going crazy?
Travel, in my opinion, is a source of hope. Wishful thinking is part of traveling. Taking a plane to a faraway land in the hopes of experiencing the ineffable requires a leap of faith and imagination. One of the few activities in which we revel in the unpredictability of the outcome is travel. A trip that goes exactly as planned is the most memorable experience.