Note: This article serves as my final exam for JRN 215 — Creative Non-fiction Writing subject for my final year in the university, which has not been proofread or revised in any matter. I welcome and appreciate all the feedback I can get.
Traveling is one of those things in life I seriously hate and love. One could consider it to be a “love-hate relationship”, probably weird but true because of the many different experiences as someone privileged, for example, to have traveled to America when I was only five years old. Of course, I had no idea back then what I would get out of this, only needing to follow, to obey, without actually realizing the joy and even the suffering one would experience in the process of traveling. Although those memories in America continue to resonate in my heart, perhaps, in the same way now as we are quarantined, most of us would simply look back on the years passed, for some, the many different places that have very, very specific meaning to their lives.
One place I will never forget was the pilgrimage I joined to Europe. The opportunity to see and be with the head of the Catholic Church, celebrating its greatest feast of Easter with the Pope — those are the days certainly one would not forget, regardless of what we had to give up that particular time. My specific intention back then was to be united to the wishes of a particular saint, Josemaria Escriva, I admire: “Catholic, apostolic, Roman! I want you to be very Roman. And to be anxious to make your ‘path to Rome’, videre Petrum — to see Peter.” But of course, this was not the only reason to travel. The only reason perhaps my family and I would travel, for example, to such a troubled place — called America — because of the disunity, politics and the pandemic, would be our other family members. Besides this, I do hate traveling, a lot, may be also because of a particular event and I don’t blame anyone for it. Robert Louis Stevenson once wrote, “to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” Especially when it comes to leaving the country of destination — it’s difficult to enjoy after all the good and bad memories made. All the more do I hate traveling when I simply “arrive” which happens most cases when one is forced to travel or take journeys to places out of mere obligation rather than a “duty of love.”
Perhaps, this could be a result of almost getting lost or separated from my family when I once rushed to the train which shut after, leaving me and them divided by the heavy doors that were automatically closed by the usual programming. I felt a rush of emotions back then, since again, I was only a child — 12 to be precise — and I was not ready. Who would be ready to face such an extreme and life-changing situation? What a game changer would that have been, to my life, to theirs! Where would I have ended up in? Will I ever see the girl I have fallen for today, or aspire for the dream job I’ve been thinking of for many, many years now? This experience points out the same carelessness in the decisions I make every single day. There would have been a different identity in the person I am today if it weren’t for the saving grace that miraculously opened the doors that day. I’d like to think it was my guardian angel that repelled the force of the doors, but, maybe it could be the mercy in the operator assigned that day. And even if this is not an isolated case, standing from point where I experienced it first-hand, it could never be compared to any other.
Again, this could be the reason why I hate traveling, yet, another memory comes to mind when was heading back from my pilgrimage to Rome, which surprisingly took place after my last final exams in high school and right before graduation. It was a blessing, a privilege that it perfectly fit a day or two before graduation day. Imagine how scared my mother was that I would collapse as the commentator for the baccalaureate mass. An eighteen-year-old who just had celebrated his birthday in the presence of the leader of the biggest church and religion in the world and would end up collapsing in front of his parents, family, classmates — everyone! Yet, it did not happen. But what really could have been an anxious adventure for someone who were in my shoes, was when I almost got left in the airport in the Middle East. It was a transferring flight and we’ve been waiting in the boarding area for hours that I already woke up from my nap when we were being called already. It was only then I realized I left one of my treasured souvenirs from the very Louvre museum that kept Mona Lisa. But it was her that captured my heart’s desire, but the painting opposing it when you enter the hall that houses the renowned and beloved painting. It was a gigantic representational painting by the artist Paolo Veronese who depicted the first manifestation of Jesus Christ’s powers during a wedding at Cana. I refused the flight attendant’s discouraging command for me not to pursue such treasure, since I realized I left it at the security check. And it was there — after not skipping a single beat of the heart, as every minute and second passed.
Again, I still hated traveling, but I love — loved it? — no, love it! I now miss it more than ever, all those dreams coming into fruition, or the times I simply wanted to forget everything as everyone wants to forget everything and everyone about 2020. There is so much pain, conceit and frustration because of how the pandemic turned up lives and the entire world upside down. All we want now is to think of the past, to relive it, as if we had some sort of time machine that would allow us to keep the very first person who got COVID-19 from infecting him or herself, plus others — the entire world. About two years ago, my parents proposed that we would take a vacation to Japan — a country I had no affinity or affection for. It was blind ignorance that kept me from realizing the beauty of culture and identity, for clearly, I had no background or ability to see outside myself. The only thought that comes to mind was to simply follow, keep on going, and maybe discover the things I needed or are essential to me — to keep my personal life with God going, maybe look for a church to attend daily Mass? But it was impossible, it was an inner contradiction turned rebellion. I opposed the plan going to Japan. And I again was resistant the second time we went six months later!
My family and I only went to Tokyo in December 2018, not knowing it would be the second time I’d get to discover the precious beauty of snow. Regardless of it raining down or accumulating right in front of our eyes, the moment was too gorgeous given that the temperature the day we visited Mt. Fuji reached zero degrees. I can only imagine now the thousands of people dying because of too much sun and heat not only on their skins but trying to see their eyes burning and turning red. Then the second time, only about a year ago or so, witnessing the life and culture in Osaka. Only if I were a better writer, my pen could speak louder than the word “wow”, but truly, only the heart speaks in silence. I’ve always had this sense of detachment that grew out of the enthusiastic and excited me many, many years ago but I feel like my child-like me is growing out of my childish past. It would only be natural for a kid to be in awe with what he or she sees, and because my very first trip was to America, I got accustomed to seeing the colorful lights of Disneyland California, not the presumed “dull colors” I encountered in the minimalistic space we rented in our last two travels to the land of anime and sushi.
Still, I was disappointed that I had no access to my spiritual essentials, but the masters have taught me prayer fits like a hand glove into however the size of our hands — what ever the situation I’ll be forced in, I can continue to be whomever my faith is leading me to become. This perhaps is the greatest reason I both hate and love traveling — the lost essential is discovered in a new path and a beautiful one. Just like in the pandemic we are in — we all initially lost access to the churches we travel to and the travels we dreamt of for years. I can only imagine what would be in the heart of my Muslim brothers, their duty and obligation to be in the place they all long to visit. What if it were the same, for us to be required to see Pope Francis, at least, or any other Pope in our lifetime, just to see the representative of the Christ “in flesh”. Well, as they say, “vita mutatur, non tollitur”. Life is never taken, but changed. I would add that it can only be taken, taken for granted! And yet, here we are in this mess. How we long for the trips we simply make to visit our friends and family, yet the simple wearing of facemasks keeps us from a distance, some maybe for a while, but for most, almost a year now.
All those lessons I never thought of learning, from hating and loving the act of traveling. It is an essential and it comes natural in our way of being. Now that we are being isolated, quarantined and “locked down” from one another, I can’t help myself from feeling the uneasy and restlessness within me. Earlier this year, we were just so excited to visit America for the third time, to have no other dreams but see my loving relatives whom I’ve been distant now more than ever due to this destructive virus. Everything has changed, including the way of traveling. Imagine how such a topic could lead us to many thoughts and perspectives — people fighting for their rights to wear, to protect and to not wear and keep themselves to one another — the mask! I’ve seen countless videos online cheering and booing for wearing or not wearing their masks: it’s their “right” they say!
When you and I think of traveling as something lovely or something to frown upon, well, think again. There are so many reasons one could hate and love it. The hassle of all the security inspections, immigration and boarding gates; the expenses and troubles found along the way; and now, the pandemic. Well, as they say, all will be worth it — no matter what others do or say. If you and I could only be nomads, then, we will live this vocation of traveling and bring our dreams into fruition — to escape the hate and to live the love found in this journey! I will be back for you, America, Japan, Singapore, Hong Kong, Rome and every other place there is, or I have been to! Don’t forget me!
