As a university student, I was frustrated with conforming to rigid norms and traditional ways of learning, so I needed to do something different. I had a point to prove, though I was not exactly sure what it was.
So, I decided to take the “road less travelled”, as Frost might put it. A 19-year-old girl (or alternatively, a rebellious and stubborn kid), who spoke little Spanish and knew nothing about South America, I became the first student from The University of Hong Kong to spend my exchange semester in Uruguay. To my shock (and initial fear), I was also the only Asian student studying at my host university.
After my time there, I went on my first solo-backpacking trip from Uruguay to Argentina, Chile, and the border of Brazil and Paraguay for three weeks.
The adventures were countless: from meeting Mr. and Miss. Uruguay, to befriending Argentinian street juggler friends in Brazil, to crossing the crazy Paraguayan border alone with full of armed guards and angry protesters, to randomly picking a mixed ten bed room in a hostel (only to walk in and find out that I will be staying with nine other Israeli men), to meeting a MTV television star from New York City.
Street juggling in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Image Credit: The Straits Times
After asking a stranger for the directions to a black market to exchange money at the higher “unofficial” rate in Argentina, he added “Cuídate, pero no pasa nada” (be careful, but don’t worry). His concern almost brought me to tears. Or when I impulsively took an evening bus from Argentina to Chile (only to find myself dumped at 4am at a bus terminal in an area much shadier than I had imagined) I sat there, wearing all the layers that I’d brought in the chilly night, mentally begging the old couple who were my only company not to leave the terminal, and praying that the sun would rise before I got robbed.
Travelling steals away everything we take for granted: every moment is up to us to spend as we wish, and anything can happen. Yet, it also makes us feel vulnerable and empty at times.
Society often romanticises travelling, chasing dreams, and success stories, […] forgetting to remind us [of] the millions who will never have the opportunity to see a world beyond their immediate surroundings.
Maybe it was unwise to travel alone. Maybe I could have benefited from greater academic resources for going to Europe or the US instead of spending a semester in Uruguay.
Regardless, perhaps I came to see the world where:
- You are exactly where you are supposed to be.
- There are no right or wrong paths to take; when faced with a ‘barrier’, infinite solutions are possible.
- To actively choose to dwell on the sweetness and kindness of humanity along the road.
Travelling the world sounds romantic, adventurous, and even daring. Sure, it gave me the adrenaline, and I befriended numerous other travellers and local people along the way. Yet with the highs also came the lows, in equal measure. Other times, it was just plain flat. Frankly, I got bored after three weeks of ‘aimless’ wandering.
12 countries, 4 continents, 2.5 years
In the end, having travelled through 12 countries in two and a half years from Asia to Europe to Africa and now South America, I have to admit: I was disappointed that it no longer gave me the “steep learning curve” or thrill that I had on one of my first overseas trips to Ghana.
For better or for worse, every trip teaches me a life-changing lesson.
I am grateful for every journey. I am grateful to my family, who let me venture out into the world and run into whatever trouble I might encounter. For them to let me go definitely took more courage than for me to go, myself. I am grateful to my university, who were supportive enough to fund — through scholarships — my travel to the other side of the world. I am grateful for receiving the quality of education that allowed me to get into the university in the first place. The list goes on.
Society often romanticises travelling, chasing dreams, and success stories, often forgetting to remind us that, behind every glorious photo under the Eiffel tower or Machu Picchu, come hard work, opportunity costs, sacrifices, and the millions who will never have the opportunity to see a world beyond their immediate surroundings. Ironically, society also stigmatises those who go against the mainstream to chase their dream as “naïve”, “innocent” or “irresponsible”.
Though my globe-trotting days might have ended, I do not regret any of the decisions I have made. I would, albeit stubbornly, like to believe that everyone deserves to have a dream. We all have our own places to be, our own battles to fight, and our own stories to be told.
Perhaps I came back with nothing to prove, after all. I return instead with a greater sense of gratitude and of tolerance. Perhaps no one has it the perfect way, travellers or not. Life is the way it is.
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