Is vagabonding wearisome?
Posted September 10th, 2008 by Antonia MalchikTo many of us the life of a vagabond holds attractions both real and romantic. Footloose and fancy-free, divested of all those pesky possessions, wandering the world at one’s whim — isn’t it something we all dream of?
If you’re in your twenties, maybe you dream of doing it before you’re thirty, that arbitrary marker age that seems to translate into “real life starts now.” If, like me, you’re in the midst of house, spouse, kids, and job, you dream of leaving it all behind, walking out one day with a few bits of currency in your pocket and a favorite life-defining book, telling your family, “I’ll be back when I’ve found myself again in Fez.”
Well, despite my frequent comments recently that I plan on giving my son to the first band of gypsies that passes my door, I know it ain’t gonna happen. If I make it to Fez, it’ll either be with family in tow or after the kids have followed their own wanderlusts.
And maybe that’s a good thing. I’ve been reading The Selected Letters of Anton Chekhov recently (edited by Lillian Hellman, a very satisfying collection first published in the 1950s and reprinted now by Barnes & Noble publications), and came across a missive to fellow Russian writer Maxim Gorky. In it, Chekhov answers a question or comment Gorky must have written about traveling:
“Now as to vagabondage. It is a life that interests and entices one, but with the years a kind of heaviness sets in and one gets glued to a place.”
In 1899 Chekhov knew instinctively what travelers to this day are still discovering for themselves year after year. With all its romanticism, at some point vagabonding is just another form of real life, where the daily tasks of finding something to eat and a place to sleep and deciding what to do next can overtake the initial excitement of discovery.
It reminded me of one of my first trips without my parents. On a spontaneous two-week trip to Turkey, I and some other student friends were caught up in the absolute coolness of what we were doing and what we were seeing. We arrived with no plan, deciding on our first destination (Canakkale) at the Istanbul airport at one in the morning.
We found, as so many American students have and so many are probably finding right at this moment, that everywhere we went in Turkey filled our hearts, minds, souls, imaginations.
We also found, as so many American students have, the intrepid Australians and New Zealanders who had been traveling for 6 months, a year, 18 months in some cases. Wow, we thought, what we wouldn’t give to have that opportunity. But privately, one other friend and I noted how tired many of these adventurous, fun-loving people seemed. They weren’t bored, exactly, but there was a lack of thrill in where they were going, and where they had been. As Chekhov might have said, a heaviness was setting in.
Vagabonding still pulls me with its whisper of freedom. As humans, I think that will always be with us — in a way, we’re all descended from pioneers. But we are also refreshed by gravitating back to a home base. A year of straight traveling would never give me quite the same satisfaction as I gain by spreading it out over years, or even decades, coming to each place with fresh eyes renewed by the humdrum of real life.
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September 10th, 2008 at 12:45 pm
Thanks Antonia for sharing this. Very insightful, and I loved that phrase “Now as to vagabondage. It is a life that interests and entices one, but with the years a kind of heaviness sets in and one gets glued to a place.” I’ll definitely buy the book
September 10th, 2008 at 2:50 pm
If you like Chekhov you can’t go wrong — it’s on Barnes & Noble’s bargain rack
I love reading letters between writers of past centuries. They’re so thoughtful and full of insight and deliberation. Not like our hurried electronic missives of today, which sometimes leave one gasping for breath.
September 10th, 2008 at 8:22 pm
The term “vagabondage’ needs to make its way into the traveler’s vernacular! Vagabonding works fine as the verb, but I like the idea of “vagabondage” as that burdensome state of being weirdly indentured to your travels.
Our travel team is good for about two months, sometimes three. After that, we get a little cranky. I takes us about two weeks to hit our stride, maybe three. By the time we flew home from our last adventure (~3 weeks) we were so into the groove we did not want to give it up.
But the things to which we’re indentured back in the US called us home. The opposite state of vagabondage?
September 10th, 2008 at 11:38 pm
I too was tempted to keep on traveling when my (4-week) trip to Italy this summer was coming to an end. The pace of life when you’re not rushing around with kids/work/school is so much easier.
Yes, long-term travel would, in time, wear you down.
But equally, those 18-22 year-old Kiwis & Aussies were most likely traveling at a pace that you wouldn’t attempt at 30: different city, different bed every night.
I’m planning a 15-month RTW trip with husband & two kids. I plan to take my time when we’re on the road. To stop and smell the roses if you will. It’ll be interesting to see whether or not we suffer vagabondage to the same degree.
And as for the ‘footloose and fancy-free’ part: just stepping off the kids/work/school/playdates/… treadmill will be enough I think.
Michelle
September 11th, 2008 at 7:30 am
Pam, that’s a great idea. You should send it into Atlantic Monthly’s Word Court column. They have a regular thing where you have words that don’t exist but should, and what they mean.
We find that 3 weeks is about beautifully perfect, too–I mean in that we don’t want to stop at that point, so it’s nice to go out on a high note.
Michelle, you’re absolutely right in those points. I think I’m a bit on the fence about this because my preferred state (especially as I’m no longer the energetic 20-year-old who doesn’t care how clean the shower is) is that of an ex-pat. In that position, you’re always just a touch out of your element, and you can still travel to different places, but you can also delve into a deep immersion (the daily life of language, grocery shopping, the quirks of a culture that take years to fathom) in a way you never can while traveling.
Your 15-month trip sounds great! I’ve read of a few families doing that, and it never sounds like a bad idea, especially as a way to give your children an education they’d never find in school or playdates. Can’t wait for my guy to be old enough to appreciate and remember his travels.
September 11th, 2008 at 9:21 am
Given the choice, I still prefer long stretches at a time to short ones. My longest trip was three years – but there is one thing I’d do differently now – I’d make sure I had a home base to return to. With a home base, I could wander as far and as long as I’d like… I’m a vagabond at heart and yes, I did on occasion get tired and fed up. Nothing a quick trip home wouldn’t have fixed, had I had one. Next time.
September 11th, 2008 at 9:31 am
Scribetrotter, I have a friend who’s a Lonely Planet author who feels the exact same way. She loves going out on assignment on months for a time, and has very short breaks between them so bops around for years. But she’s also been talking for years about the need for an actual home to come back to, even if you rarely see it. I do think the need to wander and the need for a home-hearth are ingrained in the human psyche.
September 12th, 2008 at 7:37 am
I met plenty of grizzled people who seemed to be suffering from vagabondage, but have to admit I never experienced it myself except some times I was just plain tired worn out from the place I was in. (I’m talking to you India.) But I did three year-long trips around the world and whenever we got tired of moving around, we would just stay in one place for a week or so. We were not the list-ticking types either, more the “explore one place well before moving on” types.
September 12th, 2008 at 8:09 am
I suppose like with most things it comes down to what kind of person you are and what kind of traveler. See, I know I like order and clean sheets, but reading that you did three year-long tripsTim makes me long to shuck the house and run way to get my passport good and bedraggled