“You won’t last 6 months,” and “You’ll be back in a week.”
Two statements I constantly heard when deciding to embark on my solo trip to India for 6 months.
At 22 years old and a recent University graduate, hungry for a meaningful experience, the world was my oyster. I decided to explore not just any country but India, my motherland; I was intent on discovering my roots. As an Indo-Canadian born in UAE the faint memories I have of India consist of visiting extended family in the state of Kerala for 2 weeks every 5 years. Terrified of what could await me, I put on a brave face and boarded the flight to Mumbai. I was determined to thrive in a world that was foreign to me and silence the doubters.
Despite not speaking an ounce of Hindi, I connected with the locals through their food, culture, and humanity. In the past, I was often blinded by the negative aspects portrayed of India by the media. The narrative changed once I gave India a chance. Being hosted by various families, sharing their stories, food, and ‘mittai’, I started feeling a sense of kinship with the natives of the land. Immersing myself by traveling in crowded buses and trains, eating diverse street delicacies – Delhi Belly being part of the experience – I slowly began to integrate into the local lifestyle. Being the only person on both sides of my family to see India on a larger scale, it was a life-changing experience. I proudly survived the chaos of India.
Fast-forward two years, I’m 25 years old and living in Toronto working as a digital media strategist. I was thriving in the industry, experiencing significant financial and social fulfillment. However, I felt incomplete which pushed me into an existential crisis – quarter-life? Soul-searching? I wanted to get out and embark on a journey again. I came across an opportunity to volunteer with a pop-up hostel in Munich, Germany during Oktoberfest. A last-minute application turned into an unexpected opportunity when the coordinator for the hostel reached out to me. I resigned, bought some travel gear, and booked a one-way ticket heading to Munich – the rest was history.
Well, history to reminisce on when I am old and gray.
There is a charm to working with people from around the world. The different nationalities, cultures, languages, and personalities all tossed into a big punch bowl; a love for travel brought us together. This was my first time being part of an international community of this scale. I learned that language has no barriers, travel has no passport – okay it does – but in a general scheme of things, these individuals didn’t care about where I was from, rather who I am. This is where my love for traveling was fostered.
Initially, my trip was intended to last 4 months. My friends from the hostel challenged me to take a leap of faith and push beyond my comfort zone. As a result, I sold everything back home and hit the road for 18 months. Meeting people every day and being part of their story, it had more meaning than any materialistic satisfaction I have ever had. The endless adrenaline one receives from traveling, an experiential high, persuaded me to continue.
My journey truly humbled me to the extent that I was able to recognize a deeper sense of myself. I started saving every penny, traveling by any means, sleeping in conditions I never imagined, and picking up jobs with tasks I would normally be reluctant to do, all with a smile on my face. In addition, visiting different countries, meeting travelers & locals, and hearing unique stories made me appreciate the privilege of living in Canada.
I took a leap into the unknown, not knowing what awaited me; I came back a different person. A person who sincerely appreciates the smaller details, realizes that money is not everything, and at last, has a deeper understanding that true love and friendships know no border or language.
