Am I really a traveler?

I mean… technically I have been around the world twice, and lived below the equator. I’ve walked the ancient Great Wall of China, prayed in the tiny chapel beneath Christ the Redeemer, rang in New Year’s Day with a million people in Times Square, bundled up with drunken strangers at a random ice bar in Argentina and sipped down a psychedelic ‘shake from a Shaman in Thailand. Wild story, but we’ll save that last one for a post of its own.

People marvel at what they see in the media, dreaming to one day travel the world and stand in spaces where their favorite actors and actresses once filmed. I could just imagine Mulan swinging into the final scene as I stood in awe of the not-so-secret-anymore Forbidden City. Man, what a time to be alive.

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I didn’t even step foot on a plane until I was 16 years old; and yet, here I am, having visited some of the most exotic places in the world, casually checking off major bucket list items and framing selfies snapped at 2 of the 7 Wonders of the World I was fortunate enough to experience before I even turned 25.

Travel is indeed a privilege. I didn’t have the means to make any of these things happen on my own; so, I took matters into my own hands and maximized opportunities offered through higher education to fund internships, study abroad experiences and research opportunities in some of the most unique and coveted travel destinations across the globe.

I quite literally am my ancestors’ and my younger self’s wildest dreams.

Pieces of every place I’ve been so far dwell forever in my shifted perspective of what it means to be alive. My thoughts–on everything–have expanded across this breathtakingly beautiful sphere we’re all living on to encompass a more expansive view.

I see things much more clearly now.

The bigger picture is far more exciting than the single puzzle piece we’re each so accustomed to seeing. Once you step foot off that plane, beauty standards, family values and political beliefs shift as quickly as the language. 

Life everywhere does not exist as it does here.

And that’s exactly why I do it. That’s why I travel.

I want to do myself a favor and give my soul a sweet, sour and mouth-watering taste of life outside my comfort zone. I want to challenge the beliefs that keep so many people’s perspectives narrow and unwilling to be filled.

I’ve only seen a fraction of the world; but, it’s changed me. My mind may be here, but my heart is overseas.

I love travel, but does that make me a… “traveler”? I struggle with claiming this title. Because…well, it’s been a while. I haven’t left the country this year, and I promised myself after my very first trip abroad that I would leave the country at least once every year, as long as it is within my means to do so.

If it’s not clear already, I don’t do it for the ‘gram. My best moments are actually nowhere to be found on social media.

Some things just can’t be captured in a picture. And, even if they could be, seeing a picture is no substitute for watching a smile form on the appreciative face of someone listening to you successfully string words together in their native language, or locking eyes with a travel crush after that first kiss on the beach or, uh dance floor. And, there are absolutely no words to express that feeling you get as your plane lifts off from foreign land you never quite know for sure that you’ll ever see again.

I do it for the memories.

But, I also do it for the culture—our culture, and theirs.

I add new pages to my story everywhere I go, while also catching people up on the chapters of my history that were written long before I got here. And, I listen, storing mental notes from the many other volumes of our global encyclopedia; all unique in their tales of cultural struggle and triumph. There’s extraordinary meaning in the conversations I’ve had about what it felt like to be the only African-American in Chiang Mai with the burden of wondering if any of my South Carolina family members were shot in the hours following the Charleston church shooting  …and looking over my first plate of Pad Thai into the confused eyes of my travel mate the next day, desperately trying to explain to her why, in that instance, all lives didn’t matter.

I got my own privilege reality check when my Brazilian roommate shared, over our fancy Iguazú Falls resort breakfast, why it’s both offensive and annoying that people from the United States are the only ones regarded as “American” by foreigners. It was equally as eye-opening when my lab mate’s little sister explained how degrading it is that many people from the U.S. don’t even try to seriously learn other languages before floating around to other people’s countries expecting everyone to know theirs. An insightful nugget dropped into our random discussion about the subtle difference in pronunciation of the English words “beach” and “bitch”.

There’s a mutual, beautiful exchange that happens when one culture collides with another.

It’s just as important for my British friend to understand why I don’t have any credible, documented knowledge to answer her question about what exact country myself or my African ancestors are originally from, as it is for my Chinese friend to reveal what really happened on the streets of Beijing in the weeks leading up to the televised 2008 Olympics. China, please don’t delete my blog.

In my experience, I’ve learned that there are different types of travelers. While some may lack interest in exploring the poppin’ festival outside their Central American hotel room window, others have zero fear in straddling the protective railing at the largest waterfalls system on the planet. To each their own.

I think it’s possible to be both.

It’s possible to want to engage in night life and drink caipirinhas with strangers on the streets of Rio de Janeiro, while turning up to “funky” Brazilian music, AND initiate a philosophical discussion the next day about why there’s an entire preserved, yet overlooked slave trade auction site, sitting completely neglected down the street from Rio’s new “Museum of Tomorrow”. Yeah… that’s actually a thing. Do yourself a favor and watch this clip later.

For me, there’s so much more to travel than taking that one perfectly posed picture, or having bragging rights at the next social gathering.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I do just want to sit on the tour bus.

…but then I want to get off and go make friends at the dinner buffet with the cute older couple who’s just casually traveling the world as scuba divers, or the genius little kid at the opposite end of the table who would rather build intricate napkin forts and talk about his love for geometry than listen to his dad critique his fork etiquette. True story.

I guess what I’m saying is that, in my opinion, what makes a traveler isn’t the amount of stamps in your passport or “likes” on Instagram, but whether you return home differently than you left. If you didn’t broaden your perspective, or share your unique point of view with someone you otherwise would have never met, then… what was it all for?

I find myself still leaving the country, mentally, through travel vlogs, blogs and Facebook groups filled with like-minded people who have an insatiable thirst for adventure and cultural exploration.

Each time I choose to wear one of the unique pieces of jewelry I’ve picked up overseas, I have a brief moment of reflection on what headspace I was in when I bartered (or splurged) for the item.

My home is filled with a collection of paintings from every place I’ve been. And each one, beautiful and unique in its own way, tells a different story.

I always smile when I scroll past my old travel buddies going on to make new memories around the world, and my heart melts when I see that they’ve achieved some personal milestone that was once just a hopeful dream sprinkled into our random conversations about what we imagined our futures would be one day.

Travel is a way of life. It’s a yearning for …more.

Travel is in my heart.

And, going a couple of years without leaving my home country can never change that.

Why do YOU travel? Or, equally important question, why DON’T you travel? Is it finances? Is it fear? Has a procrastination-mindset got you postponing your wildest dreams to some arbitrary point in the future?