wanderful words

“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.”
– Martin Buber

A four day wedding and a little journey across northern India, that’s all. That’s what I thought before I left.

I knew challenges might accompany me on that journey, but those were largely my thoughts as I embarked on that trip. You might say that they were the underthoughts of the year.

But what does it mean to say that an upcoming trip might be challenging, anyway? You can expect challenges and know they’re coming. You can read blog entries and advice and prepare for the challenges. But you’ll never know exactly what challenges will materialize and how you’ll feel when they materialize until you arrive.

For the most part, I put myself in a position to experience India on a basic level. Because of this, and even more so because I was a solo female traveler, there was no filtering anything. India laid it all out for me — filthy accommodations, excessive staring, frustrating gender dynamics, and close-minded ideas about skin color. Once I arrived, the idea of a comfort zone became this elusive thing; something that couldn’t necessarily be reestablished by holing up in a hotel room.

Of course there were the highlights like the trip’s impetus — the vibrant and elaborate four day wedding I attended in Kolkata. After attending that wedding, it’s pretty clear that as far as traditions, decoration, and attire go, an Indian wedding can only be topped by an Indian wedding. I’m now a believer in multiple day weddings. After one day you’re just getting started, but after a few, it feels like a complete well-rounded event.

And there were the beautiful sites like the Amber Fort in Jaipur, the Taj Mahal, and the Jama Masjid that left me in awe of creativity and craftsmanship. There were a few surprises like the Jantar Mantar and the Victoria Memorial. There were the everyday views of cities captured in the early morning or from cars or rickshaws.

A wedding and sightseeing were the things I went to do and see. But of course, my trip had other destinations waiting for me. Most of these unexpected sights were internal.

I’m a strong traveler. I go solo. I go budget. I go almost anywhere. But India had a way of stripping me of this sturdy identity and leaving me feeling incredibly vulnerable. “So you think you’re tough?” it asked me with its daily frustrations and the way it disoriented me by hyper-engaging all of my senses simultaneously.

I was in India for a short time and it wasn’t long enough to reach a point of reconciliation. But it did come eventually.

“I am not an adventurer by choice but by fate.”
– Vincent van Gogh

It was after traveling to India that I knew with absolute certainty that cultural exploration is for me. It just feels right. If you’ve ready my About the Author section, you might argue that I’ve known that for awhile. But no place I’ve previously visited has tested me quite like India. And still my wanderlust is untainted, maybe even enhanced. It goes back to the sleepy, “even when I hate this, I love this,” rumination on my flight to India. It also goes back to other travelers’ sentiments that, “If you can travel in India, you can travel anywhere.” I feel even more ready for the world after visiting India.

Destinations can be like people whose friendship is questionable. They might stab you repeatedly in the front and in the back. But over time, you appreciate their presence in your life.

They’ve driven you crazy and tricked you; they’ve challenged you and poked and prodded your seemingly fragile core. But in the end, because of them, you can gleefully, powerfully, and irrevocably say, “Yes, I do have mountains of inner strength.”

If the countries I’ve visited were people, India would undoubtedly be my foe. And yet I am still damn glad to have met her.

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It’s been awhile since I last posted, but Girl, Unstoppable has not stopped. During my hiatus, I’ve been on the move in India, the ultimate in masochistic travel destinations. I still want to wrap up my reports on my Mexico trip, but being here has me so fully engulfed in the moment, it’s difficult to think about much else.

Here, if you’re not all here, you might get run over by a taxi or rickshaw or find that six people are now in front of you in a queue when you were originally next in line. You might think you’re at the gate where your flight will depart from soon when in fact, it will be delayed with much “regret” at regular intervals and you’ll be wandering the terminal trying to keep up with gate changes and four hours later, when your flight finally arrives and you finally figure out where you’ll actually board it, people begin to clap. Simultaneous hyper-alertness and patience are characteristics this country constantly requires of its visitors.

India is everything you expect, yet it can still be shocking to see the stereotypes unfold. Probably because of the challenges India throws at those who find themselves here, there’s a camaraderie amongst travelers that is unique, especially those of us who are trying to see India on a budget. On my first day, more than one traveler I met spoke these very true words:

“If you can travel in India, you can travel anywhere.”


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Something I enjoy about working in a highly untraditional high school is that the list of standard books that often left me bored and uninspired when I was in high school is nowhere in sight. Instead, books are carefully chosen to relate to class themes and hopefully, the students themselves.

One of the books I’ve been introduced to this semester is The Plum Plum Pickers, a novel by Raymond Barrio about the struggles of Mexican farm workers in California in the 1960s. As I skimmed through the book, I came across a part where a teenage girl tells of the issues she has with her classmates and some of the misconceptions people have about Mexicans. In this section, these words stood out:

“There was more of everything in the Mexican character [. . .]. More sadness, more joy, more love, more ferocity, more intensity, more softness, more intimacy, more warmth, more family, more hatred.”

There it was, those ideas and impressions that had been a jumble in mind, but hadn’t yet come together. Since I’d gotten back from Mexico in July, I’d been unsuccinctly and unsuccessfully trying to explain my adoration for the country. It’s a challenge to be heard over the chorus of negativity about Mexico in the United States—the drug conflict headlines, the “illegal” immigrants, the image of it as a beach resort or party break destination.

The other chorus, the one that tells of the warmth of daily interactions, the ferocity of non-violently occupying a square in protest, the sadness displayed in a beautiful piece of art or the love in a plate of chicken mole is easily drowned out.

Though those words from The Plum Plum Pickers certainly weren’t written in the context of traveling to Mexico, they neatly and simply conveyed what I love most about Mexico… passion and a reverence for life infiltrate everything, including you, the visitor.

I’d begun to discover this in Mexico City at the beginning of my trip and would continue to discover it in Oaxaca. That is, once I got over the heartbreak of leaving Cuba.

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