I'll go anywhere once. Probably twice.
For me, travel is the most enriching and magical experience one can have.
There is nothing quite like coming out of your everyday ordinary and exploring a new place, a new land, a new people, a new culture.
And the best thing about this type of experience is you don’t have to venture very far.
Even a trip to a neighborhood you don’t frequent can flip your perspective about where you live and your system of functioning.
As a child I grew up in what most consider an international city. I didn’t have to go far to taste a culture other than what is typically thought of as “American.”
In my own home my family was deeply rooted in our cultural traditions, even one generation removed.
From my perception, particularly in the years I was there, that city was fairly homogenous, being predominately Hispanic. The majority of my peers were Cuban, which was a blessing. I was able to experience a version of my culture, without being in a country that prohibited certain freedoms.
Yet, the greatest cultural gifts of my upbringing were the trips we took as family.
Not only because it provided opportunity for deep connection outside of the daily routine of our lives, but also because it exposed me to worlds beyond my own.
I heard once someone describing the life of socioeconomically challenged kids. They talked about how a short trip outside of their neighborhood, even if it was in the same city, greatly increased their potential for success and upward mobility. The experience of seeing something different, a distinctive way of life from their own, allowed them to understand they had another option.
That single experience shaped their perceptions on what was possible for their lives.
As a graduate student I again had ample opportunity to travel as part of my coursework.
Here I understood how deeply blessed I was; it was my first time in a third world country.
As part of the curriculum we were required, in groups, to interview the local people about their lives and their views.
I’ve never gained such rich understanding about what it is to be human than in those conversations.
There was the woman who left the countryside for the city to send funds back to those left behind; there was a butcher that fled his South American country for a better opportunity in the poorest neighborhood of his new city, and there was the street sweeper whose parents brought him as a child for a better education. These stories are all around, and indeed, it is the story of my family’s history.
What traveling has taught me most is that sacrifice and struggle are part of everyone’s equation, but we experience that basic struggle for survival less in this country.
To put it into physicality, a major issue amongst those who struggle with poverty in our country is obesity. In others, it’s a lack of food.
But still there is a familiar thing in every place I’ve traveled, and it is this: we are all human.
We all strive for happiness and we all hope for a brighter day for our families and ourselves. We are each individuals, but the purpose we share is the same.
To learn.
To grow.
To thrive.
To leave our world a little better than we found it.
All my love,
Natalie