Why do we travel?

13/12/2007

So today was a great day back at work at the fishery. I spent Monday night, Tuesday and Wednesday in Galway with Matt and my friends from, Australia, Canada, South Africa, and Ireland. It’s amazing how many people are traveling the world just as I am. It is a reassuring feeling that I will forever have friends all around the world. I had a great time although I was sick, once again, for most of it. We went out Monday night and met a great chap from Derry who had just sold his business and was moving to Spain. He was in his mid-forties and you could see he was re-energized by the unknown that was ahead of him in Spain. He was a great addition for the night and he enjoyed hearing our stories of why we were all traveling and where we were from. We enjoyed a few pints and then parted ways, as I do with the majority of people I meet. Small talk is easy, and there is a comfort in meeting new friends knowing they will be shortly lost, all to do it again shortly. And why are we all traveling? Who knows, the answer is probably a little different for all of us. Holiday, adventure, love, just to get away, a job offer, not wanting to get a real job are all possibilities. No matter what reason it is, you discover who you really are. For me the traveling is a result of a friend who put the idea into my head and I said why not. I also didn’t want a real job. I got super stressed at first and have been amazed at how much I love not knowing where I’ll be next, where or if I’ll be working. But all of it makes me realize that in the end, the reason I am so comfortable traveling is that I know I can go home at any point. And home will be that much more special because I’ve traveled. I always knew I enjoyed farming and never guessed I would miss the field work as much as I have. Farming salmon has been a thrill but no replacement for working beside my brother, dad, and grandpa. When at field work is on, no one at the farm may admit it, but you always hope the tractor needs to be refueled so you can head to Grandma’s house and grab a little lunch, or when mom hands your dinner in a pie tin and milk in a pint jar over the fence because you don’t have time to come in for dinner. It can’t be replaced. Just as the travels I am making and people I am meeting can never be replaced.