Posted by: Lindsey

I am continually surprised by how much I enjoy my trips away from the U.S. Every time I return, my immediate instinct is to not unpack so I can embark on another adventure on a moment’s notice. Maybe what I like best about traveling is that a new environment with new people offers a clarity impossible to attain when close to the familiar. I feel like the truest form of myself when removed from familial, academic and societal pressures that have in some way shape or form hijacked my identity and dreams. At school, I face doubts and fears regarding the future, my future, and how my current trajectory fits in with my dreams. Leaving is dreaming of what life without so many pressures could be: impulsive, unconventional, different. Returning is a reminder of what I’m giving up on the road less taken: a cushy salary, security and guaranteed “success”. All you have to do is follow the plan. It’s a scary trade-off. Who wants to give up a sure thing?

The first time I spent a significant portion of my life abroad was my experience working on Cousin Island in the Seychelles. As I stepped off the plane at Dulles airport, the only sure thing I knew was that I didn’t want to be back. If it weren’t for my venturing beyond my comfort zone so many times, becoming friends with people who have taken risks, meeting others who couldn’t fathom choosing corporate over creative, then I don’t think I’d be on this bike trip right now. There has been hours and hours of travel, who knows how much in airfare and bus tickets, and all the stress that comes with planning a trip.  Worth it? Just as much as four years of medical school and tuition.

When Peter first presented me with the possibility of participating on this bike trip across Europe into India and Southeast Asia, my immediate reaction was that it wouldn’t be possible. After all, I was in the midst of my medical education and I still had a long way to go before I’d be finished. However, as the months rolled by, I started questioning my initial knee-jerk reaction to Peter’s proposal.  I realized I had been convincing myself that any deviations from the straight line path towards “success” are precarious, troublesome and completely unnecessary. Perhaps I am just clinging onto my dome of security for fear that I will lose some part of myself in the process of deviating from the path I’ve chosen for my life thus far. Maybe I simply don’t know how to respond to something that might exceed my expectations for a non conventional trajectory towards success and happiness. Maybe I’m not willing to run the risk of failure in the eyes of my family and society. But though I had been afraid for weeks to make this concession, I must say: by and large, the possibility of finding true happiness is always worth the risk.  Taking these unconventional leaps of faith didn’t use to terrify me. Because unlike learning to swim in the kiddie pool, true happiness is like learning to swim in the ocean. Once you’re far out, there are no lifeguards or railings, and more often than not, your final destination is not forward but back from where you came. For the girl who used to throw herself headfirst into the water without hesitation, it seems like I’ve taken one too many steps away from the sand to remember that the view is worth it, that drowning is more fear than real possibility, that even those who never properly learned how to swim — or who have long forgotten — are capable of staying afloat.