everyday i acknowledge how lucky i am that i’m no longer in the nomadic state that i was in for most of 2019. last may, lovely and i shipped our stuff from dc to la, and then spent the following eight months living out of our suitcases as we zigzagged four continents.
this is the part where i say it’s not as romantic as it sounds, but tbh β it was. even when i describe the hardships, it comes off like excerpts from an odyssey:
one late night in new orleans, i returned to my shotgun house to be greeted by hundreds of winged termites swarming the kitchen lamp. with only the thought i can’t deal with this shit rn i went to bed, only to wake up in the morning to find that they’d vanished without a trace.
in estonia, lovely was bitten by a mysterious insect that caused her arm to swell so intensely that it took doctors in three countries to figure out a remedy β she was prescribed meds in vienna, and she healed in paris β all while delivering speeches on global nuclear security.
in auckland, just days before the art show that my team had be preparing for two years, the convention center down the street burst into flames β with our event spared only because it was by the water opposite of the wind and smoke. while we prayed for the safety of those affected, nobody could look past the irony that this convention center had been the crown jewel of the same development company that was actively displacing mΔori who had been living in a nearby settlement for generations.
in manila, we braved the uncertainties of an actively-erupting volcano. when we arrived, our family there laughed at us for bringing a box of n95 masks that we had picked up from home depot (this was in early january when goods of that sort lined the shelves higher than one could reach). in the days before we left, we watched the early reports of a virus making itself known, and we returned to california right before borders throughout the world began closing.
these days, as soon as i feel the brush of boredom, restlessness, FOMO, i recall the dual sensations of exhilaration and exhaustion that spelled my past year. i am grateful for the fact that, though those nomadic months were filled with nearly-missed flights, moments of feeling stranded, nerve-wrecking ailments, lack of sleep, and frustrating miscommunications β in the end i made it back home. disheveled, drained, but in one piece.
traveling the world is a dream made real over a decade ago, but also a privilege that i’ve only recently begun learning to hold myself accountable for. aside from the damage i’ve done to my body through long-haul flights and the whiplash of jetlag, i also think about the piles of carbon that my flight patterns have released into the sky, the garbage i’ve left behind like plastic bread crumbs, the wealth gaps i’ve contributed to just by default of being an american abroad.
today, i’m feeling particularly grateful for the friends i’ve made along the way, the magical moments i’ve paid witness to, the memories engraved in my mind. i also think it’s time to fundamentally shift the role of travel in my life. i don’t know what that yet means, and it’s painful to recall all the places i’ve loved but may never return to. but this world has given me so much, has shown me so much beauty. i’m recognizing that, beyond all the important projects and engagements that have taken me everywhere, the biggest impact i can make on the world is to stop swarming β and when the time comes, to vanish without a trace.