let’s go somewhere for Labor Day!
Something you must know about my husband and I: he is an engineer and I’m a librarian. We are planners and organizers at our very core. Our coffee cup handles line up perfectly in the cabinet and our spice rack is a thing of beauty to behold. Our trip itineraries and notes are detailed enough to be travel guides. Needless to say, when we plan for a trip we probably OVER plan. This has never been a problem for us, since we both love to research and find that research in itself is a way of travelling.
I never realized, however, how much our detailed planning sometimes hindered us from being spontaneous.
On our way home from Dingle Ireland while waiting for a connecting flight in Boston, Eric and I did something we’ve never done before: we left the airport. We had been to Boston before and remembered a cafe in Little Italy that we loved. With no plans whatsoever (other than our destination), we hopped on the “T” and found ourselves sipping cappuccinos and eating fluffy tiramisu at Caffe Vittoria. Then we leisurely walked back via Hanover & Cross Streets to Faneuil Hall Marketplace, where a lively outdoor market was in full swing. We ate at a food truck (without looking it up first in Yelp) and then made our way back to the airport in time for our flight.
This may not sound like much of an adventure to many, but for those who know us it was totally out of character. This unscripted moment was when we realized that Ireland had truly changed us and the way we think about travel. Sometimes it’s best not to research. Sometimes you just need to use your feet and go outside and explore.
We were only on the Dingle Peninsula for 8 days, but when we took the bus back to Shannon Airport it felt like we were leaving roots behind. At the Boston Airport, we were immediately barraged by news coverage of the 2016 presidential campaign. Eric and I’s instincts were screaming at us to “go back!”
By the end of our vacations we’re usually ready to go home. But this trip was different. It was the longest vacation we had ever taken and it was in a place far removed from our home and workplace. We had very little exposure to the outside world (no TV, little internet) and the bulk of our trip was spent outdoors in remote locations. The people of Dingle ran the gamut of jolly, content and cantankerous — but they all seemed to have a peace about them…a sense that they were happy with their place in life.
Transitioning from this to our busy, consumer-driven American life was like stepping out of a paradise directly into a war zone. I was shell-shocked.
But by far the most life-changing part of the trip was the TYPE of travel. Relying solely on our feet to take us from destination to destination was such a wonderful way to experience another place. The itinerary showcased the best landscapes and town life, and the inns were all unique and charming. We felt like pilgrims, not tourists, and there is a BIG difference between the two.
A pilgrim concerns themselves with the journey, while the tourist concerns themselves with the sights and experiences.
I’ve always known I didn’t like high tourist destinations, but I never knew how much I could enjoy entire days of seeing absolutely nothing that would be covered in a travel guide. I mean come on, no one would buy copies of Fodor’s if their top suggestions were walking through pastures with sheep and small towns with limited dining and potty options. But when you remove the touristy sights, you’re left with the “normal” and that’s when you feel like a local. And THAT kind of travel is my drug of choice — I simply can’t get enough.