I've thought a lot about why we travel.
And why someone who has travelled a lot isn't materially or noticeably more interesting, wise, mature, better equipped at dealing with life, or fun to be around, than someone who hasn't travelled. Have you ever noticed sometimes there's an inverse correlation of how much someone has travelled and how interesting they are?
But in thinking that, I missed the point. It’s not about gaining wisdom or maturity or gaining life experience that will pay off at a later date. It’s not even about the social capital of a fleeting rapport with a stranger at a party when you find common ground about that same place you’ve both travelled to (although I can’t deny that is nice).
This could be a post on the 750 different motivations or benefits of travel, but I wanted to highlight the 2 key ones that struck me in my most recent trip. Neither of them will make me more interesting (maybe the opposite), and definitely not more wise (never any risk of that), but that’s completely okay with me.
The 2 benefits that hit me shifted between the acute and the chronic.
The short and longer term.
The fun and the meaningful.
The “fun” was the dopamine hit of Awe. The novelty and unknown of every moment in travel gives the purest neurochemical concoction of joy, intrigue, confusion and surprise. I suspect that's the real attraction to travel outside of relaxation by the beach. That every time we go to a new place that’s recommended by a friend or a travel guide - the anticipation and hit of novel experience is difficult to describe, and that’s why we keep coming back for it.
Then there's the “meaningful”.
The one that struck me in Japan was the impact of an awakened sense that our normal isn't or doesn't have to be *the* normal. At least not “the only” normal.
That we apply our own social constructs in our own lives. We've been shaped by them, and we perpetuate them.
Other cultures shape and perpetuate their own social constructs.
Each micro experience in a new environment can give us the opportunity to think about why we do what we do, and seek to learn why others do it differently. Even if we don’t dig deeper, just observing how differently some people do the things we take for granted as “conventional” feels enriching. We don’t have to actively seek these micro experiences - walking through the streets in a new city or spending time at a cafe can flood us with these moments. Low effort, high yield.
The very first moment that captured me on this, at Haneda airport, was a pristinely dressed elderly (approximately 70 years old) man with the laser-focused role of grabbing each luggage bag as they popped out of the carousel, and aligning each one so that they were easy for the traveller to grab. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so dialled in and intent to absolutely nail their job. It was like the World Championships were at stake. Why is this a role? Wouldn't a physical job like this be better suited to a younger fitter man? How is he seemingly still in incredible physical shape with perfect posture despite his age? Is he proud of this job? Is he doing this by choice at his age or is it due to not being able to afford retirement? Why don’t other international airports have this role? What is the real utility of the role? (You get the point).
This was the first of over a dozen moments like this. That captured not only attention, but Awe. These moments forced the question of "Why is it this way?" . More often than not I didn't and don't have the answer. Which I also loved.
I'm convinced in some ways the beauty of life is just constantly being exposed to things we don’t understand, and accepting that is okay.
The moments continued:
Elderly woman pouring her heart and soul into her one-person restaurant, silently making okonomiyaki right in front of us to the tune of Japanese news in the background.
The awkward - yet charming - yet fascinating - yet bewildering - yet wholesome "thank you" , "no, thank you!", "thank you very much", no, thank you very much" that seems to end almost every interaction.
Waiter at the wrong restaurant offering (and requesting) to inconvenience himself and walk us to the right restaurant - 15 minutes away.
Restaurant giving patrons gifts just for eating at their restaurant.
Uber driver inconveniencing himself to make absolutely sure we get to our right stop at no extra charge.
Elderly construction workers in air-conditioned gilets.
The awkwardly long bow until the elevator closes.
A one-table bakery; inside the house of a solo baker.
The first time the bidet hits your bum after sitting on the heated toilet seat.
The impassioned emotion and expression fully commensurate with the tone of the words.
The sumo wrestler thanking you for stepping on his turf.
Darts and Karaoke as the wedding afterparty.
The shoes off policy of a barbecue house.
The Michelin chef who has impeccable Google Translate small talk with his doting patrons over the counter.
Bar staff giving customers free dessert just for having a good time.
The ‘8 thank you minimums’ in most cafes.
Vending machines selling 16 different types of freshly brewed coffee with 7 different sub-options each - payable with travel card.
Bartender named Champagne.
… And those were the first few off the top of my head from 6 days.
None of these moments feel "normal" to me. Or at least not common in my daily life in London or in Johannesburg. That's not to say it's better. That's not to say it's worse.
But it is a version of normal.
And that's enough for my subconscious to get excited enough to transfer the questioning of “normal” onto countless other everyday life things.
At least until the busy-ness of life distracts again.
And then, it's onto the next trip to reawaken the senses again.
