I don't like traveling anymore

One of my biggest motivators to make money in my early 20s was traveling. I would book one way tickets to places near and far, enjoy the nature, the food, the culture, and the lovely people. I would come back a slightly wiser, friendlier and a happier person.

Then, in late 2020, at the age of 25, in the middle of the pandemic, I moved to Goa, India. It’s a popular tourist destination, known for its beaches, though I stay far away from the beach, on a lovely farm.

My rent got a lot cheaper, and my cost of living got a lot cheaper. What I didn’t expect was that I also had more time in life–all my friends live close to me, distances are quicker to traverse, and the low population density means that I can make easier and longer lasting connections with my favorite restaurateur, barkeepers, entertainers and neighbors. I get the pleasure to nod/wave Hi to ~10 people on the 3 minute walk to my local grocery store, every day.

I found the time to learn to draw, to make music, to film and edit movies, and more forms of art. I discovered how much I enjoyed refining the use of my body. I work out in various ways–climbing different terrains, rollerblading across empty streets, surfing tall waves, and playing many sports in empty and free public parks. I discovered a love for hosting friends who come to visit my town–organizing my home into a space which is optimized for myself, and easily accessible to anyone else living there.

Sometimes, I would also work a job to pay for all these bills. And so, while doing all of this, 5 odd years have passed by. I think I am a wiser, friendlier and a happier person now.

And now, I don’t feel like traveling anymore.

It’s not that I haven’t traveled since the pandemic–but most of it has been with family and friends, which is unlike how I have always traveled. I don’t really consider that as my form of traveling though, since the collaboration and negotiations involved in group trips is not very aligned with how I usually live my life–which is slow, independent, less-structured and community oriented. This also reflects a lot in my relationships with people.

Last year, I turned 30. Among the many reflections one usually does on such a birthday, I thought about travel, and my long-term career goals. Maybe I should start traveling again, which would motivate me to make a lot more money.

And so I traveled. Right now, I am writing this essay from the living room of my hostel in Almaty, Kazakhstan. I am also volunteering here because I like to be useful, have people rely on me, and work with the community. I like the people I am staying with. The staff and I have become good friends. I like the city, and have met wonderful local and foreign people in buses, bars and canyons. I go snowboarding almost every day, and the guy who runs the snowboard rental shop greets me warmly every day, while he pulls my favorite boots out the back. The boots will go back into regular circulation after I’ve left town.

And yet, the travel itself feels soulless. I am acutely aware of my status as a tourist among all of these people–someone who has objectified the life of a town as a transient experience, after which I go back to my regular life, where I perhaps tell stories of my travels and how much fun it was to live among a different people.

Earlier, meeting people from different places expanded my worldview, and made me aware of new ways of life. Now, everyone feels almost the same, dealing with similar issues, caring about similar things. And this isn’t just about geography–across politics, gender, economics, class, people feel the same to me at their core. Just human beings, trying to make the lives of themselves and their community slightly better, though sometimes in very myopic ways.

I will soon go back to India, where I will wait out the summer in the Himalayas. I will build furniture and gardens for my new host, in exchange for food and stay, while I work on some new software/music/film project. I am looking forward to it, but I am looking forward way more to the end of summer, when I go back home, where the connection to people isn’t already punctuated by my impending departure–where every connection feels limitless, open-ended, full of possibility.

Maybe part of my blame lies with the ubiquity of information on the internet. I love going to museums and learning about the history of a place. But barely have I felt that I couldn’t have gotten this information over the internet, if it was available there in a similarly structured manner. I meet interesting people from all over during my travels, but the same people also come to Goa often, where I end up having similar conversations.

Or maybe I am just going through a rooting phase, and one day I will get over it, and find new reasons for travel. I wait patiently for them to reveal themselves. Until then my travel will be limited to visiting friends, meetups/conferences/festivals, or going to local waterfalls, quarries, river deltas, beaches, hilltops and plateaus in different seasons–while getting to know the flora, the fauna, the landscape and how they change with time. But this is something I can rarely experience as a short-term traveler to a distant land.