The Wanderlust Prodigal Daughter
A love letter to being a global citizen
I flicked through my passport before my flight to Tokyo and as I perused through the pages each stamp flooded memories back to me. It really dawned on me that I’ve been doing a lot of hopping around to say the least.
At home, the moms who play tennis with mine, close family friends, etc. have essentially labeled me the prodigal daughter; my USC friends like to pretend I am a “jet-setter” (I can assure you I’m not but as my brother-in-law would say “inshallah”); and my closest friends joke that they never could be expected to know where I will be from one day to the next…
While I can endure the under-toned, suggestive jokes alluding to some sort of annoyance or marvel about my constant absence, the reality is, there is no thing in this world I love to do more than travel. There is no equivocal rush to landing somewhere you’ve never stepped foot before. Those thoughts when you hit the tarmac imagining what the people could be like, how funny their humor may be, if the food will live up to the hype, is the vintage shopping really going to be as spectacular as everyone says? It is like you are given one of infinite keys that bring you one step closer to uncovering the answers to all the diverse wonders the world has to offer. It is almost like being reborn.
There is a John Denver lyric my dear friend Stella (who always has a magical way of awarding me clarity) showed me once when I was pouring my heart out to her on this matter in Copenhagen:
“Coming home to a place he'd never been before.” (0:17)
(I recommend letting the song play while you read the rest of this 😉).
Those who know me know I LOVE to cry, but when I heard this line, in a very distinct way from my usual tear-fests, tears streamed down my face. For the first time I had found something to near-perfectly express that feeling which makes me want to take off to a new place every chance I get. It probably seems crazy—considering somewhere home that you have never even been to…even further, feeling HOMESICK, nostalgia, meloncholy over somewhere you have never been…Imagine longing for something you have built up so deeply you essentially generate phantom-nostalgia towards it!?!?! That (confusing) description only begins to scratch the surface of how deeply I feel the desire to mobilize.
All of you who know me best would probably classify this in the realm of my usual dramatics but this is deeper than hyperbolic speaking habits—this feeling plagues me far too often.
There is a German word, fernweh, that always constantly lives in my head—especially when I begin to feel stuck back home in LA or NY. It can encompass this John Denver lyric that describes feeling somewhere is home that you have never even been, but in its entirety, fernweh it is deeper than just that.
Fernweh |fɛrnwe|: (noun) a feeling encompassing not just a desire to travel but a deep-seated longing and yearning for distant places, new horizons, and experiences. So, naturally, "fernweh" feels deeply linked with melancholy and nostalgia…It reminds us of the vastness of the world and the endless possibilities for adventure. Whether it inspires us to travel to far-flung corners of the globe or explore our native country, fernweh is a powerful reminder of the importance of curiosity and wonder shared by people worldwide.
Beyond pure longing, I think I am inspired by the feeling of immense gratefulness. What greater gift or privilege, could one really draw from life? There is an Arabic saying, I came across with my good friend Haley on USC campus a few months ago that resonated with me quite heavily: “movement is a blessing”. It is inspired by one of the greatest travelers who has ever lived from Morocco, Ibn Battuta. Even in the year 1301, limited to traveling by horse, camel, and ships, enduring relentless hours, he travelled more than any other explorer in the pre-modern era of history driven by true desire to learn about and even more importantly, connect with other cultures.
This saying, “movement is a blessing”, encompasses so much: a deep history of escapism, war, freedom, accessibility, the consideration of what a gift it is to have bodies that can physically help us discover the natural world, and much more. This line truly lives in my head rent free, I remind myself of it everyday.
While I certainly have not left my travel obsession understated in this piece, to put it as frank as possible…
TLDR: There are just few things I love more in this life, really. I love to laugh, I love to banter, I love to dance, I love to kiss (*only certain parties), and right up there with these things I love most to do in this life, is the act of dashing off to somewhere new and seeing what the hell really goes on outside of our little bubbles. Connecting in a new realm, it is like a renaissance.
With these deep feelings do come inevitable trade-offs:
the loneliness of often being by oneself or only with one companion
the discomfort of having to put yourself out there to meet new people, learn new things, etc.
the challenge of constantly having to put things into perspective—“is this actually more magical or is this a grass is greener situation”
But even with navigating these challenges, it is all well worth it…because as the wise and angelic Jake Foster always reminds me: “nothing good comes easy.”
In a society where people do love to travel but don’t actually enjoy the discomfort of leaving the places they know best for long periods—you have no idea how many people I have met who’ve never left NYC—how have I developed such a love, you might wonder?
I guess I don’t truly know. I’ve certainly formulated some theories:
Maybe it is an escape because even living somewhere as diverse as NY, we all do live confined in bubbles if we don’t open our minds further.
Maybe the generational trauma of displacement of the Lebanese & Venezuelan people is being masked as a love for movement.
Maybe I want to live too many different lives (this is actually definitely true).
Maybe it simply makes me happy. (I think I like this one the most.)
I don’t think there really is one simple explanation. Whatever the reasons though, this for the rest of my life will be one of the most integral parts of who I am and what I will always optimize to be able to do. My future spouse, future kids, friends, work, will have to endure it, and ideally will share in it. Nonetheless, it will never change, so I guess the real question is: Are you up for the adventure?
After all, you can’t be the prodigal daughter if you consider everywhere home… ;)
Signing off…
Friends, thanks for reading this love letter to my identity of being a wanderer. You may be wondering why I wrote this in the first place? Well, I feel it is time I more deeply synthesize my thoughts collected from all of my treks. People constantly reach out to me for perspective, stories, recommendations, etc. and I have been meaning to do this for quite sometime. So finally it is time to put my astuteness and inability to stop writing to good use.
This is essentially my travel journal, a safe haven if you will, to catch a vibe of my journies including: observations of the atmosphere, thoughts on the vibes, the food, the style, best overheard quotes, pics, some fun/crazy/emotional anecdotes, and the most highly coveted by all of you…my cheeky recs because everyone on my instagram is always asking.
What’s next: my next piece will be on what was probably my favorite place I have traveled to date…check back in to see what it is 🕺
Feel free to comment, criticize, start a convo. Like I said I love to banter ;)
“It is almost like being reborn.” dis hits.
No one knows who you are. There are no familiar places or faces reinforcing your sense of self.
You act as you are compelled to. You do what you wanna do. Your confidence in the pillars of your identity are tested. And sometimes you surprise yourself.