Something i wrote two years ago, somewhere, somehow
What are the necessities one needs, to be happy? Money, home, good feelings, employment, health and property- some of these I think are irrelevant, and others essential. But i’ve discovered there’s no recipe for achieving personal satisfaction, you have to experiment, mix and taste, many different approaches before realise what works for you. This is why I decided to leave what I had behind and travel through South America, to know and understand more of the world around me.
My journey had been pinpointed on a roadmap with times, places, forms of locomotion etc., all following a plan. But a few days after my trip began I remembered I had forgotten something, my script- the plan. At the time I was convinced it was important. However, after exploring without my screenplay, I don’t think the same way. I have been able to know places in a different way, with amazing people, appreciating the little things. The time I had planned for the road has transformed into a real journey- an adventure, during which time I now find inspiration where I least expect to. I review and deconstruct the values I believed in all my life, I am now in a moment of constant restructuring. These changes are enabling me to discover new horizons, as the world is bigger than I once thought. It's full of new sensations, emotions, and experiences giving me divine intensity for the life I'm living. But to feel all this, I first had to get lost, so I could find myself again.
In essence travel is part of life. It’s not something one needs to plan. It’s not separate to a routine, it isn’t something for the privileged, the homeless, the people in-between. We are nomadic. We come from tribes. We move to live.. How has travel become so distorted?
The excuses that separate most people from something that is in their nature comes from commitments of work, family etc., or lack of money/time.
If there is no time, make time. If commitments hold you back, drop the commitments. If family are an issue, take them with you. If money isn’t there right now, when it is, jump! Figure out how to do more with less.
Is travel to be outside of your comfort zone? Is it the feeling of being lost? Is it the excitement from discovering, both literal and mental, avenues - undiscovered roads, unusual paths and alleys, leading to new adventures?
Travel is an adventures’ paradise. It is the sane person’s medicine, to a life of routine.
I don’t think it is about the mode of travel, that doesn’t matter all too much, but it’s about what you do from departure to arrival that matters. What you do and how you feel about it. If you treat your journey with the pretence of being in a place similar to home, you’ll constantly relate it to that. Your car doesn’t often come with you on holiday. Instead of relying on taxis when away, try make do with the alternatives. Use your feet more, bicycles, buses- anything that gets you going. If you don’t enjoy the alternatives you’ll be thinking about avoiding those throughout the day, eventually preferring to spend the hours you have left, only to retreat to the hotel room by secluded car. Do more of what you enjoy less. Make discomfit your home, so any reality is paradise. Don’t do hotels so much and hide. Don’t do taxis but flow with the rest. Don’t travel expecting all the comforts of home at an arm’s distance away. What ever it is you are doing, suck in the experience- maybe that’s the essence of travel.
Let me first explain the not so secret stolen bicycle black market across The Netherlands. In Amsterdam especially, there are more bicycles than people. It’s customary to have two to five bicycles at any given time, with the sheer amount of them and access to undoubtedly one of the best cycle transportation systems in the world. The surplus of bicycles means homeless people, junkies and general thieves alike, have another means of income.
Like how the rise of tourism in Cuba gave way to the Jinetero, an illegal or semi-legal hustler, the amount of bikes in The Netherlands enables anybody to make a quick buck you could say. In cities across the Netherlands there are spots where one can go, to find stolen bikes for sale. All you have to do is explore or ask around to find out where. When you go to the space, look around at the people. Figure out who are the odd ones out; Which people are commuters, who are the bar goers, the tourists, locals. Sure enough, like clockwork, if they aren’t there yet, after a while an opportunity will arise for you to bargain down the price of a recently stolen bicycle. Just walk up to the guy looking a bit rough with a bicycle near by and ask if he’s selling.
Why am I explaining all this? Before autumn arrived in the last couple of weeks of summer, an elder friend of Lennart and Sander’s whom owned a pub, had his birthday. To celebrate, he held an open bar to all he knew, mutual friends and more. The deal was that for a few hours only, if a happy patron wishes to relish his thirst within said establishment, he or she pulls his own. So me and Lennart set off after having a few beers at the office in the direction of the pub to meet Sander and the General (Sander’s girlfriend). Like many a times riding together across the city, after having been accustomed to the way of life for two months already in Amsterdam and the procedure of locking up ones own cycle, I got lazy. Foolish. Hopeful my good friend would be caring for me, securing me and my possessions. I expected the good will of my accomplice to chain his bike, to mine. It wasn’t so indifferent to expect it as we were often on adventures together. He parked up and I left my bicycle next to his, unlocked. We walked in the direction of the pub where we'd find a few ol’ free beverages for our very very good selves. A calm atmosphere at first, chit chat back and fourth of patrons. Surely it got slightly crowded, loud and exasperated antics emerged as expected, with new coming bustlers, swirling timelessly. The beautiful part of alcohol, everyone together deepening into a flow. Like smiles exchanged on any good calm summers eve in the sublime dutch city. Twas the first time I set eyes on Timophy. Whilst everyone’s alchohol blood levels steadily rised, so did the loathing Lennart felt from within his deeper feelings for Timophy. After two brauls, one of them gets kicked out. At the end of the night, we couldn’t drink any more. We were on that level, the tipping point, where one either goes harder, or goes home. To stay and drink more, or to make a move before the haze. I called it a night and said we should leave otherwise the night won’t be remembered and lost.
The decision was made. We say our good byes walking towards our parked bikes. I wasn’t surprised to find mine wasn’t there. This one I was very fond of, I had owned it for at least a month and the big wheels and tight chain allowed me to ramp up to good speeds, darting in and out of the Amsterdam traffic exploiting the highway code as I like. Still, the most disappointing thing was losing the lock around it. It cost me more than the bike itself and would ensure any bicycle I had in Amsterdam wouldn’t get nicked, provided I use it correctly. This was the beginning of four months of purchasing more cheap bikes with tacky locks. I really thought that one would stay.
Having parked up at the Leidseplein swiftly shifting off the frame of Lennart’s fixy, rubbing my ass, like i’d just sat amongst four other travelers in the back three seats of a saloon car for two hours, directly on one of the seat belt slots, we scouted the area for junkies. Within two minutes i’m perched upon the saddle of a bike to test ride. Making sure it’s worthy of my money, haggling down to a fair price of 15 euros, exuberayting confidence through the stale breath of ale. I showed him my two tens and asked for change. Empty handed he walked to his fellows for two fives which would complete our trusty transaction.
I remember it in slow motion, the slow steps and strides he took towards his fellow addicts. He’s half way between them and us when I Lennart whispers in my ear “get ready”.
“What?”
"Ride!”
Before we know it, i’m racing with Lennart down the nearest alley, round a corner, down another. Peddling as hard as I can. A robber in action. Not allowing anyone on my trail. The shouting fades from behind, the thieves we'd just robbed. It wasn’t planned, and i’m not proud of it. But this is Amsterdam. I swear, things like this is normal.
Do I want your approval? Do I want you to comment on this and say I was within my right to steal from those who steal? That i’m not looking for. But I thought i’d share the experience anyhow. As I said, i’m not proud.
Laing needed to distinguish between what he called false sanity and true sanity:
False sanity is basically compliance, adaptation, submission to the culture. Lang believed that to actually comply with the culture in its own terms was itself to be driven mad, and that one’s only hope for renewal was to achieve what he believed was the true sanity within us - the true sanity within us would come out at madness (strange behavior).
In Laing’s view, the really disturbed people - the people we should be most concerned about and be fearful for were the normal, the successful.
Madness was the only way of coping in an alienated, ruthlessly competitive society, and that artistic creativity was essential to this journey.
The artists who were mentally ill were the only hope for the future - they were the people we needed to listen to.
Regress in order to progress - a journey towards true sanity.
The people who appear to be sane are mad and the people who are mad have achieved true sanity. And this true sanity means they recovered their vitality, their life-force, their reason to live.
Once you relinquish the salability of your art you’re then freer to have your own thoughts.
A sane art would be one that always offers the promise of more life.
There's a lot to it, far more than I am knowledgeable on, but there is one aspect with which i’d like to share my experience on - the art of packing light.
Ever seen a group of double-baggers pass by? Those pro looking travelers with day packs out front, and 70 liters on their backs. You’d think their in it for the long haul right, but often they’ll be trekking only for a couple of weeks at a time. The real distance travelers are the ones you don’t see, they’re hidden in plain sight because they’ve learned not to stick out so much. They blend in with the crowed sensibly only carrying what is necessary in a smaller 30 liter bag, enabling themselves to be, think and act light. They can have travel itineraries ranging from weeks to months, or maybe even a couple of years, it all doesn’t really matter too much. What matters is how they role and the methods that allow them to travel freely.
Packing and traveling light is for all types of travelers in the sense of those who travel well, not the poolside all-inclusive trippers. It isn’t necessarily easy, but it doesn’t have to be too difficult. When it comes to packing, some start months ahead and others only a few hours. So it’s easy to assume that what you pack is down to destination and duration. But this is wrong, there is way more to it, especially if you wanna be freeeee like the wind, effortlessly stopping at will whenever and wherever. The type of things you will be packing depend on your sex, hobbies, profession, climate of destination etc., so I won’t pretend I have the answer for everyone. Usually this skill is learned through practice, but below i’m going to share with you everything I have learned, meaning you don’t have to. This has enabled me to go anywhere with just a 30 liter back pack, I literally live out of it.
Here’s the scoop on what you’ll learn:
packing for dummies
downsizing your junk
rules the pros live by
The packing procedure. A great way to figure out what the essentials are for you is to lay out everything you think you need on the floor, and take a step back. Now, look at all the shit you thought you need, then bit by bit, remove items you can definitely do without. Do this days ahead, or maybe weeks if you have the time. Every time you walk past that space on the floor dedicated to your junk, you can take another look and review each item. Where people go wrong with packing, is packing for every situation and resulting in way to much stuff to carry. This is why packing over days or weeks is good, because you are not rushed and keep your sanity.
So how to know what’s not necessary? You know.. that extra toiletry, the big bottle of shampoo, the face towel, the second sweater, five pairs of socks, an extra pair of shoes. Think about it by questioning each item on your floor. Do you really need two vests, three t-shirts and a long sleeve shirt, or will one of each, or less, suffice? How many socks and pants did you get out? You can do without a whole week’s worth and pack for two days, swapping and washing. You wanna get everything down to the core basics, so don’t take anything if it only has purpose in a what if scenario. For many this can be difficult, because function and usability are secondary to aesthetics and staying fashionable. Just remember, if you really need something else you can buy or rent it on the road. If you are going on a big hike, no doubt the nearby town will have a shop that sells or rents all the gear you need. Doing this means you don’t carry a tent you made use of once, around with you on a six month travel adventure. It’s about the little things too. When I went to Peru I took with me just my travel shoes. When after months of being in the Andes I found myself in working in a jungle hostel, I bought second hand flipflops from a local market super cheap.
Figuring out what to pack, when packing light, isn’t just about minimising your load, it’s also about downsizing the things you hold dear- the stuff you know you need to take. This ought to be done months before you know you are going away. I’m talking about…say you’re a photographer, investing in an all round good lens for your camera that can achieve the looks all other five lenses you wanted to take instead, will save you a lot of space. Or if you’re a techy or designer or whatever, invest in a slim, light and portable ultrabook, rather than taking your heavy old 15” laptop. Say you’re a filmmaker, like me, can you get similar results for your practice with a small point and shoot camera, rather than a DSLR setup? This mode of thought translates into the basics too. Instead of bringing along a big old towel, buy a small microfiber towel which is a quarter of the size and dries super quick. Likewise with underwear, instead of five pairs of whatever you normally wear I recommend buying two exofficio nylon stay clean dry fast boxes, swapping and washing daily. You like to read right? Sure you do. Don’t bring books, get an e-reader and fill it with everything you can find on the internet. It’s a lot easier to carry a light e-reader around as compared to a few books. In this case, Amazon, the pirate bay and the libraries on the dark web are your local go to book dispensaries. What are your skills? What is your profession? What are your hobbies that you take into account when packing for trips away? Figure out how you can still do what you need to do, but with less stuff.
Here are a few tips.
Adopt a one thing in one thing out policy, to stop yourself accumulating masses of shit. Or if you are a materialist by heart, try sending home things so you don’t have to carry them
Take one pair of shoes. Take something you can walk, run and even swim in. I use Palladium boots. They are canvas shoes, so if they get wet they dry fast. Super durable, super comfortable in all situations, from mountain ranges to night clubs.
Use a journal to stay sane, preventing you from buying useless shit.
I’ll end with some cool travel philosophy from The Way of Zen by Alan W. Watts.
To travel is to be alive, but to get somewhere is to be dead, for as our own proverb says, “To travel well is better than to arrive.” A world which increasingly consists of destinations without journeys between them, a world which values only “getting somewhere” as fast as possible, becomes a world without substance. One can get anywhere and everywhere, and yet the more this is possible, the less is anywhere and everywhere worth getting to. For points of arrival are too abstract, too Euclidean to be enjoyed, and it is all very much like eating the precise ends of a banana without getting what lies in between.
It’s said the origin of the word ‘travel’ is lost in time.
Es decir, se rumorea que desciende de la palabra travailen, sinónimo de sufrimiento, esfuerzo y aventura. Tal vez se deba a la perspectiva. Si vivir cada día es un desafío, entonces tal vez el viaje en sí sea nuestro hogar.
¿Qué se siente estar 100% vivo? Para viajar en el aquí y ahora. Libre del pasado, y libre de cualquier visión del futuro.
Si te sientes nervioso o asustado, probablemente estás haciendo algo bien. Nos corresponde, buscar nuevos caminos y aventura hacia lo desconocido. Significa luchar por lo inesperado.
¡Vamos ahora! La aventura te espera, siempre que estés listo para "viajar".
