The Voyage Out

The other night I was sitting next to a little girl I’ve been lucky to know since she was baby. She excitedly came down the stairs with a globe from her room and located where we were in the world and I I showed her with my finger that the following week, I would cross the Atlantic in a plane for a three week trip to Europe.

I pointed to London, my first destination, and described how I’d board a train that goes under water to reach Paris, a city I’ve been to many times but still feel like I barely know.

“Can you send me pictures of the ocean from the train?” she asked amazed.

“Oh no,” I chuckled. “I can’t actually see the ocean while I’m riding this train. This train is kind of like a pool noodle connecting from one country to another so I can’t actually see the ocean. But I’ll make sure to send you lots of other pictures!”

I dragged my finger down and showed her how I’d take another train to Provence, to which she pronounced with considerable accuracy for a 6 year old who doesn’t speak French. Next, I explained, I’ll go to a country called Spain, where I’ll meet a friend of mine for a week in Barcelona before I take another train to Andalusia and fly back to London. Finally, I’ll end my trip with a week divided between London and the Cotswolds before I board a plane back to Texas. The little girl, who’ll be as tall as me soon and has the prettiest red curly hair, proceeded to map out the route I just showed her with her own finger.

Later that evening, as we sat on the floor, I pulled up a picture on my phone that this little girl had recognized before.

“That’s the Eiffel Tower! It’s sooooo pretty. It lights up at night, right?” she exclaimed as she looked over my shoulder. “I hope I can see it one day.”

“Maybe one day you’'ll go to Paris too if you want and you can watch it light up at night,” I said. “When you get older, you can travel too and go see it in person. This time, though, I promise to bring you back a little Eiffel Tower souvenir.”

In a number of days, I leave for this journey I showed that little girl on her globe. A good friend of mine will be joining me for a week in Barcelona and Ibiza, but other than that, I’ll be traveling on my own. My longest solo trip by far.

Since my trip to Portugal and Spain exactly a year ago, I have been prioritizing going back to Spain in particular. My experience of Seville last September left me with a hunger to explore and experience more of this culture, to see more of the Moorish, Baroque, and Gothic architecture. I loved the style of the women in the streets and the expressiveness of the language spoken as I watched people converse back and forth. The only thing I didn’t like is the whole ‘Barthelona’ and ‘Grathias’ thing they do. We joined a tour for the cathedral in Seville one morning and I cannot get the image of Puss and Boots out of my head when I think of our short little Spanish guide explains the history of the tower.

Perhaps more fondly, I still remember the tablao that my friend and I stumbled upon one night. We paid 15 euros each and walked into a cave-like room with lights illuminating a small wooden stage. We had been on our way to dinner, and as such, were starving, so I ran to the market stall next door to grab some tubed crackers we could split during the show. The audience consisted of the two of us and perhaps three other groups and we were a little unsure what to expect.

But when the woman stepped on stage and danced to the beat of the two men clapping and playing the guitar next to her, everyone in the audience was in awe. The woman moved around in her polka dot dress and I felt this extreme desire to reincarnate as a flamenco dance on stage, if only for the brief possibility to express oneself in such a way, unlimited by skill and capacity. It was one of those moments I’ll remember forever, where goosebumps ran down my arms and I couldn’t stop smiling, for I could FEEL the congruency between soul and movement with no other agenda than authentic expression. It was our connection with the divine.

Spain has been calling me back ever since.

Baile Gitano by Hermen Anglada Camarasa

As I pointed out to the little girl on the globe, though, Spain will not be my only stop. I’ll also be saying hello to the land of the Queen (RIP) and the land of les escargots.

I realized the other day after pulling my copy of Eat, Pray, Love off of my bookshelf that I will also be visiting 3 separate countries for 3 separate purposes. I did not model my trip after this book. In fact, it hadn’t even crossed my mind, but when I opened my copy and looked at the passages I highlighted when I was 20, I remembered that this book left an impression on me and sort of mirrors a lot of what has been behind my motivation to voyage abroad. As controversial as the book has been, I think that it captures the spirit of travel and the journey of a woman trying to figure out herself and her truth during a transitional phase of her life.

This trip to me is not just a vacation, but really an experiment and attempt to learn more about myself and receive some answers as what to do next. I feel at a crossroads in my life where I can either a) continue as I am and follow the ‘safe’ route or b) take the chance, risk uncertainty, risk rejection, but ultimately follow my truth.

In one of the passages I highlighted years ago, Gilbert paraphrases Virginia Woolf, another writer attempting to figure out her own truth in the world nearly a hundred years earlier. According to Woolf and Gilbert, there’s two choices those of us who are able are lucky to get to make.

“On one side of that sword, she said, there lies convention and tradition and order, where ‘all is correct.’ But on the other side of that sword, if you’re crazy enough to cross it and choose a life that does not fall convention, ‘all is confusion. Nothing follows a regular course.’”

Virginia Woolf

I’ve discussed in previous posts the pressure I’ve felt to perform, to chase approval, to prove myself. This has been a framework I’ve followed to guarantee that I’m ‘safe’. This past year or so, though, I have increasingly questioned what I assume to be true. I’ve reached the point where I notice physical symptoms of living partly expressed and partly subdued. All the efforts to manage myself and restrict myself from saying or feeling what it is that’s true to me, it’s not working anymore, but I haven’t quite figure out what does.

I’ve written about this visual of being in the woods but feeling pulled back by something, unable to jump. It’s all about fear of what is on the other side of that sword so to speak. It’s the fear around if it will work out or if I’ll be fundamentally okay if I go against my own conventions.

This fear is not bad, but some of it has outlived its usefulness. Fear is not in itself a reason not to do something, especially if you’re just avoiding uncertainty or scared of making a mistake. I feel that this trip is a little push to the other side of the sword.

I sense a slow outgrowing of what used to be right for me and a new change making its way to me in the near future. This trip, my pull to go over there by myself, is the first step of that something new, of seeking something more that’s outside of my comfort zone.

Maybe the other side of the sword is Europe, maybe it’s just more travel, maybe I’ll come back and realize I’m in the right place for where I want to go after all.

But I don’t think so.

Andromeda by Odilon Redon

A part of me is scared about how much things may change. How will I change? Who or what will I lose? To I have to trade all sense of security to live a life in accordance with my values and passions?

A part of me is scared I’ll come back and things won’t change at all. Maybe, which is my worst fear, I’ll be too scared or plagued by making the ‘wrong’ decisions that I’ll never leap off the cliff. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

There is pressure around it too, because Europe represents so much for me. It is a fantasy of sorts in my mind. It’s a continent with countries that have problems and issues just like the one that I am, but since I was a little girl and didn’t even know what to call it, I have repeatedly been called back to its art, cultures, and histories. It’s woven all through my vision boards, my style, and here within pieces of Venus et La Lune. This is an opportunity for me to really put myself in the environment, to study, research, explore, and have new adventures in a place that keeps calling to me.

Really, this ‘trip’, which I feel is more the beginning of a journey, is an opportunity to practice being myself. It is a possibility to practice being true rather than being correct. My bank account would certainly agree right now.

So, in the next month, I am hoping to write. This is not a travel advice blog, there are plenty of those and this is not what I want to write about. But my goal is that I can share some observations, some moments of magic, from my little quest abrod.

xo ,

Zoë