I recently came across the above quote, attributed to the 13th century Persian poet Rumi. It’s certainly a great piece of guidance for liberating one’s life in general, but I feel it has a particular tie to travel. Over the past few months, as David and I have prepared for our upcoming trip to India, I’ve poured over guidebooks, browsed bookstore and library shelves, and obsessively trolled umpteen different online travel forums. I can recite regional weather data, train schedules and tips for overcoming jet lag. I’ve read up on the various scams that taxi drivers, hotel touts and tour guides use to fleece naive travelers, and I’ve steeled myself with counterattack plans.
A few weeks ago, however, I hit information overload. Despite what our moms might tell us, I think it’s possible to be too prepared. I’m thinking back to my first truly solo trip abroad, in 1999. I’d been living in Costa Rica and volunteering at Radio for Peace International, and I had to leave the country to renew my visa. I hopped a bus down to Panama City, with the name and address of a hostel a co-volunteer had recommended scratched on a piece of paper. I had no clue where the hostel was, if it was conveniently located or fairly priced. I had no plans apart from seeing the Panama Canal, but I figured I’d find stuff to do once I got there.
When I stepped off the bus in Panama City, a taxi driver grabbed my backpack, motioned me toward his cab, and asked where I was going. I handed him my slip of paper. I wasn’t concerned that he’d grabbed my bag from me without my consent or suspicious of his motives; it never occurred to me that he might do something like drive me elsewhere and rob me. Which is great—because he didn’t; he drove me to my hostel and wished me a pleasant visit. And the hostel, while indeed in a pretty out-of-the-way location, was a comfy and friendly place to stay. I met some cool people, got recommendations on things to see and do, and had an amazing time.
I tell this story now because my outlook then stands in sharp contrast to my more recent frame of mind. In the years since that Panama trip, I’ve heard countless warnings of travel dangers, cautions to never pay too much for a room/meal/cab ride/etc, and anecdotal tales of deceit and misadventure. I’m also complicit in our culture’s current addiction to information, so easily had with our high-speed wireless connections, which makes us feel as if there’s always something more to know or some better way to plan or do something.
I don’t think I was naive back then—I just wasn’t trying so hard to be clever. And it's time I cash it in and buy back a little bewilderment.