When I think of "travel," I think of journeying to some far off place, perhaps one that lies across an ocean. I think of experiencing something that is the polar opposite to what I consider the norm. I think of eating exotic foods with utensils that seem unnatural to me.
For a long time, I associated travel with all things "far off." If you are going to the beach or to grandma's house, you are taking a trip, a vacation. There will be few new experiences, and you will know what to expect. There is nothing wrong with that. The whole reason for going to grandma's is to reconnect with what is familiar, comfortable. But is it "travel?"




How far does one have to go to "travel?" Across an ocean? At least across a border, right?

I spent a lot of time in Asia. To me, that was true travel. Even though I spent three of my "traveling" years in one place (Viet Nam), with all that makes life ordinary, a job, friends, a favorite restaurant, and the bar on the corner, I still considered myself to be "far-off." I was always learning something new, realizing I didn't understand this place or this culture as much as I thought I did. Simply living there was an active process.

When I got back to The States, I missed it, of course. I pined for the smells, however foul, and the energy of the place I had left. It took a trip to Chicago to make me realize something: I would be more comfortable, more familiarized with my life in Vietnam than in Chicago, the city where I was born, a place a mere seven hour drive from Minneapolis, where I lived. Did I find a new home or a new identity in Vietnam?

No, it was nothing as trite as that. "Travel" as I had thought of it (new experiences, new wisdom) had a geographic element to it. A far-far-away. But suddenly, the distance that I associated with new experiences and new knowledge had disappeared. There were some places in my own city that I knew nothing about. It was not that I suddenly realized that these places were there. I just happened to notice what I failed to notice before.

And there are hints of exotic even in the mundane Midwest, which is not at all like it is portrayed in the movie Fargo (well, maybe a little). But it is still the U.S., the land of ever changing demography. Simply by driving down one boulevard, I can visit a Somali market, a Hmong community center, and a Vietnamese restaurant. By simply crossing a bridge, I can travel from a predominately Ecuadorian neighborhood, to an unmistakably Mexican one. Despite the lengthy and sometimes venomous debate, immigration continues. People are constantly bringing new culture and new views and blending them into the old. I can trek to Mexico to get a feel for local culture. But I can also drive to St. Paul's east side.

If I am right, then travel is more of a mindset than an activity. It is more a way of looking at the world than a way of navigating through it.

I plan to travel across the ocean again. Frequently, if possible. But I also plan to explore closer to home, and try to make "travel" a lifelong activity, not just something I do when I have saved up enough for airfare.

Also, in the internet age, there is plenty of info to get you started on a near home adventure.