EPISTOLARY PURGATORY

A few years ago I was very into traveling. I have written about my trip to Turkey and Georgia. Since then, I've made several more trips, including a solo drive across America's loneliest highway, a trip to Western Europe where I played music in a few different cities, an exploration of the American Pacific Northwest, and most recently a trip to Mexico City. I would have traveled a lot more if there hadn't been a global pandemic.

However, I suspect that I'm over it.

I may have reached a stage where all the new places are starting to blur into one. I process all new experiences through the lens/vocabulary of past ones; which is to say nothing has stood out in a way that's significant enough for me to update my perspective. Returning home after a period of being somewhere else is still somewhat rejuvenating, but recently this has been a case of diminishing returns.

Besides, the world is a lot more monolithic than it used to be. You can get Thai food in pretty much any small American town, and good pasta in Bangalore. There's bubble tea and Uniqlo in most big cities, and nearly every good cafe looks and feels like the one in Brooklyn.

I must admit that there are things that I continue to enjoy about traveling – I like flipping through my passport sometimes, and looking at all the stamps. I've been a relentless archivist of my life for years now, and a rich travel document fully gratifies that side of me. I enjoy the days leading up to a trip, when I feel immensely focused and am able to tap into my elusive decisiveness. I like writing postcards to friends from odd places, and hearing from them when they receive it.

That said, travel to new places no longer widens my sense of the world or stokes my imagination in the same way that it did a few years ago. Nor does it teach me any novel truths about myself besides the obvious vagaries of aging and waiting in line at passport control. All that time, resource and energy would perhaps be better spent elsewhere.

I spent a day in Antwerp earlier this year and didn't really care for it. My trip to Mexico City was great but a lot of the enjoyable parts of it were at the Airbnb, where a friend and I experimented with local kefir and learned to code in a new language. Likewise, the highlight from my trip to Amsterdam last year was the time I spent with family.

I was in Rotterdam earlier this year. It was ok.

In the near future, I want to travel only for the following reasons (with some rare exceptions):

1. To make art or meet with artists
2. To spend time with friends and family
3. To be in nature

I can't tell if this new loss of interest in travel is permanent, or just another phase. It is certainly possible that I will appreciate a new place (or even a familiar one) when I see it through the eyes of a romantic partner, or as a parent. Perhaps the logistics of planning a trip in such circumstances will be life changing in a way that it isn't right now. There are also parts of the world that I know are radically different (Africa, east Asia and Russia) and will warrant a visit whenever I'm feeling up for it and can make it there. Things could change.

For now, I think I'm done.