Travelling With The Guilt
by Lee Carrick
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: I was there and it was Utopia... but there was guilt.
_____________________________________________________________________
The blinding yellow light from the street lamps hits the building behind me and I note as I look around and take in my surroundings what a beautiful building it really is. Tila and Valentina are sipping their Sauvignon Blanc and trying to work out between themselves how to explain in English that they’d both like to work in childcare. They settled on explaining in German instead; “kindergarten,” Tila bellowed, her beautiful blue Danish eyes wide in anticipation of my understanding. “Yeah, we call them nurseries and the carers are called nursery nurses”. They both laughed, they found my North Eastern English, ‘Geordie’, accent both amusing and confusing. Silence fell briefly over the table. I turn back to face the building; “Isn’t it amazing how intricate and beautiful the churches are here,” I said. “That’s the police station,” Valentina explained. I laugh, and with a sigh of pure contentment, turn back to face their giggles. We’re in Venice where even the police stations are biblical.
I’d been in Europe now for three and a half months, and my flight to India was only seven weeks away. A mere whisper of India on a strangers breath was enough to get my heart thumping and my mind turning with excitement and anticipation for my second visit to the country that changed my life on the first. Sitting beside a canal in one of the world’s most beautiful cities with two Danish girls I’d known for only six hours, thoroughly enjoying their candid opinions on the arrogant English and the wealthy Danish elite. Drinking wine beside the canal beneath the street lights, in the warm Venetian night, thoughts of India dancing in my head, and I was there and it was Utopia and it was a moment..... but there was guilt.
I met Tila and Valentina outside our hostel six hours previously, they asked for directions to a shop where they could buy fresh fruit, and after showing them the way and with some broken conversation we decided to spend the day together in Venice: the kind of instant social interaction that only happens between people on the road. This is their first trip, they’re both seventeen and are still at school in Denmark. They impressed me with their intelligence, positivity and desire for new experiences. We spent the day wandering the back streets, we stood on the Rialto looked down the Grand Canal and ate one euro hot dogs from the Co-op at Piazzale Roma. Tila was preoccupied, she had her head in her mobile phone every half hour or so and she never seemed pleased with what she was reading. Relaying the messages angrily to Valentina in Danish, before turning to me to apologise while I laughed it off as none of my business. We sat on the steps of the train station and watched American, German, Japanese, Dutch tourists stomp the pavement like cattle; their children’s faces obscured by oversized maps and their brows sparkling as the sunlight hit the beads of sweat that littered their stressed faces. Tila, head back in her phone, frowns and growls something in Danish, Valentina rolls her eyes and looks away.
Tila’s boyfriend and her mother were in constant contact, she found this pressure, having to reply to these messages and the guilt of leaving them both in Denmark while she followed her desires, would bring her back to reality and away from the pleasures of being somewhere new and exciting. The guilt followed her as she travelled.
So there we were sitting beneath the street lamps outside a police station you’d pay to get into, the smell of the canal in the air and the smell of the Indian railway in the distance. Suddenly my thoughts hit a realisation, I haven’t called home in over a month, I haven’t checked my emails in over a week and I’m flying home tomorrow to spend seven weeks working and preparing for my Asia trip, where I’m going to have to face the same questions and hear the same pleas for my conformity. “When are you gonna settle down?” “Why can’t you be here for my birthday party?” “Why the hell would you wanna go to India?”
I must profess that this feeling of guilt is as much my own insecurities and over thought as it is the pressures of my friends, family and society. It came to me first after an eight month trip that ended in Australia where my intentions were to stay and work for a year. I decided to get a mobile phone and had constant access to the internet in the house I was living in. This meant a constant stream of communication from home. The troubles of friends and family were a daily read and shouts for me to return were becoming more frequent. The more I heard from home the more I felt pressured to go back. When the feeling comes it’s hard to shake, I feel I’ve let people down when I don’t call frequently, that I should plan shorter trips to be home more often, that my selfish, uncompromising pursuit of happiness is somehow negative to the people I care about. That their expectations of me and the ‘normal’ life I should lead will forever end in their disappointment of me.
I left Tila, Valentina and Venice and returned to England via Edinburgh in early August. To cushion the blow of returning home I stayed at a friend’s house and enjoyed the festival atmosphere unique to Edinburgh in August, only here will people stand head first in a bucket on Princes Street in the Scottish summer drizzle.
I left Australia after only four months, bowing to the pressures from home. A mistake, but like all mistakes an opportunity to learn. I haven’t travelled with a mobile phone since and I have come to understand that my belief in the unconditional pursuit of happiness, the desire to experience the world, its cultures and its people is fundamental to the personality of travellers. I’m not going to be able to attend all of my friends’ birthdays, I won’t be home for Christmas or New Year, nor can I communicate as frequently as I’d like. I will endeavour to communicate when I can, think of my friends and family often and make real effort to spend quality time with them when I am home. I will continue to feel a sense of guilt, travelling is the greatest of highs and all highs have their lows. I can handle the lows and I will learn to travel with the guilt.
Swearwords: None.
Description: I was there and it was Utopia... but there was guilt.
_____________________________________________________________________
The blinding yellow light from the street lamps hits the building behind me and I note as I look around and take in my surroundings what a beautiful building it really is. Tila and Valentina are sipping their Sauvignon Blanc and trying to work out between themselves how to explain in English that they’d both like to work in childcare. They settled on explaining in German instead; “kindergarten,” Tila bellowed, her beautiful blue Danish eyes wide in anticipation of my understanding. “Yeah, we call them nurseries and the carers are called nursery nurses”. They both laughed, they found my North Eastern English, ‘Geordie’, accent both amusing and confusing. Silence fell briefly over the table. I turn back to face the building; “Isn’t it amazing how intricate and beautiful the churches are here,” I said. “That’s the police station,” Valentina explained. I laugh, and with a sigh of pure contentment, turn back to face their giggles. We’re in Venice where even the police stations are biblical.
I’d been in Europe now for three and a half months, and my flight to India was only seven weeks away. A mere whisper of India on a strangers breath was enough to get my heart thumping and my mind turning with excitement and anticipation for my second visit to the country that changed my life on the first. Sitting beside a canal in one of the world’s most beautiful cities with two Danish girls I’d known for only six hours, thoroughly enjoying their candid opinions on the arrogant English and the wealthy Danish elite. Drinking wine beside the canal beneath the street lights, in the warm Venetian night, thoughts of India dancing in my head, and I was there and it was Utopia and it was a moment..... but there was guilt.
I met Tila and Valentina outside our hostel six hours previously, they asked for directions to a shop where they could buy fresh fruit, and after showing them the way and with some broken conversation we decided to spend the day together in Venice: the kind of instant social interaction that only happens between people on the road. This is their first trip, they’re both seventeen and are still at school in Denmark. They impressed me with their intelligence, positivity and desire for new experiences. We spent the day wandering the back streets, we stood on the Rialto looked down the Grand Canal and ate one euro hot dogs from the Co-op at Piazzale Roma. Tila was preoccupied, she had her head in her mobile phone every half hour or so and she never seemed pleased with what she was reading. Relaying the messages angrily to Valentina in Danish, before turning to me to apologise while I laughed it off as none of my business. We sat on the steps of the train station and watched American, German, Japanese, Dutch tourists stomp the pavement like cattle; their children’s faces obscured by oversized maps and their brows sparkling as the sunlight hit the beads of sweat that littered their stressed faces. Tila, head back in her phone, frowns and growls something in Danish, Valentina rolls her eyes and looks away.
Tila’s boyfriend and her mother were in constant contact, she found this pressure, having to reply to these messages and the guilt of leaving them both in Denmark while she followed her desires, would bring her back to reality and away from the pleasures of being somewhere new and exciting. The guilt followed her as she travelled.
So there we were sitting beneath the street lamps outside a police station you’d pay to get into, the smell of the canal in the air and the smell of the Indian railway in the distance. Suddenly my thoughts hit a realisation, I haven’t called home in over a month, I haven’t checked my emails in over a week and I’m flying home tomorrow to spend seven weeks working and preparing for my Asia trip, where I’m going to have to face the same questions and hear the same pleas for my conformity. “When are you gonna settle down?” “Why can’t you be here for my birthday party?” “Why the hell would you wanna go to India?”
I must profess that this feeling of guilt is as much my own insecurities and over thought as it is the pressures of my friends, family and society. It came to me first after an eight month trip that ended in Australia where my intentions were to stay and work for a year. I decided to get a mobile phone and had constant access to the internet in the house I was living in. This meant a constant stream of communication from home. The troubles of friends and family were a daily read and shouts for me to return were becoming more frequent. The more I heard from home the more I felt pressured to go back. When the feeling comes it’s hard to shake, I feel I’ve let people down when I don’t call frequently, that I should plan shorter trips to be home more often, that my selfish, uncompromising pursuit of happiness is somehow negative to the people I care about. That their expectations of me and the ‘normal’ life I should lead will forever end in their disappointment of me.
I left Tila, Valentina and Venice and returned to England via Edinburgh in early August. To cushion the blow of returning home I stayed at a friend’s house and enjoyed the festival atmosphere unique to Edinburgh in August, only here will people stand head first in a bucket on Princes Street in the Scottish summer drizzle.
I left Australia after only four months, bowing to the pressures from home. A mistake, but like all mistakes an opportunity to learn. I haven’t travelled with a mobile phone since and I have come to understand that my belief in the unconditional pursuit of happiness, the desire to experience the world, its cultures and its people is fundamental to the personality of travellers. I’m not going to be able to attend all of my friends’ birthdays, I won’t be home for Christmas or New Year, nor can I communicate as frequently as I’d like. I will endeavour to communicate when I can, think of my friends and family often and make real effort to spend quality time with them when I am home. I will continue to feel a sense of guilt, travelling is the greatest of highs and all highs have their lows. I can handle the lows and I will learn to travel with the guilt.
About the Author
Lee Carrick is 25. Originally from Newcastle, he now lives in Edinburgh. His biggest passions in life are writing and travelling, and he likes to combine the two. He has been writing poetry since he was 15, but only recently began to write short stories and his first novel. He was inspired to write by Ian Banks' The Wasp Factory and Neil Gaiman's Smoke and Mirrors.
Lee’s blog can be found at http://scheemieintheroom.tumblr.com. His poetry can also be read at http://writers-network.com/members/carrick.
Lee’s blog can be found at http://scheemieintheroom.tumblr.com. His poetry can also be read at http://writers-network.com/members/carrick.