Wherever You Go, There You Are

As I write I am sitting on the upper deck of a small cruise-ship in Ha Long Bay, near Hai Phong, Vietnam.

We came to the Far East to visit our daughter and her family in Hong Kong, and decided to take a little side-trip to Vietnam. We spent a couple of nights in Hanoi, and now are here we are in this odd place (which is famous for its strange “karst” formations — small peaks created by acid erosion of old limestone seabeds). We are on one of the dozens of tour-boats milling about the bay.

It’s an exotic locale, and after our time in Hanoi I have some post-worthy impressions of what communist Vietnam is like (which I won’t write down until we’ve left), but mainly I’m writing just now to note how little enthusiasm I have for travel these days. I’ve been all over the place in my lengthening life (I’ll be 69 in April), and more and more it seems to me that every place is, well, just some other place, and that gallivanting around is increasingly just exhausting and distracting. The world outside seems increasingly finite in comparison to what can (and should) be explored within — and once you’ve scratched the youthful itch of restlessness the trick, I think, is just to find someplace you like well enough, and to make yourself at home.

On my piney knoll in the Outer Cape I have clean fresh air, rainwater from the well, the sea all around, shelves overflowing with books, my little music-studio, wooded trails for hiking, spring-fed ponds for swimming, and at night the great black firmament above, alive with glittering stars. What more do I need? Why wear myself out like this?

Can’t wait to get back home.

4 Comments

  1. Jason says

    Years ago I met my mom in Florence, right after a sleepless plane ride to Rome. So we’re just walking around the Palazzo Vecchio during the early evening, my maternal unit jabbering away in typical fashion, until I finally expressed to her, “Hey mom, why don’t we just separate and meet at the hotel where after a good night’s sleep I’ll be much more properly social?” Needless to say, for about ten minutes she was absolutely furious with me, but then she understood and relented. And indeed, the next day I was much better and able to converse with my mom normally.

    And I think there’s a lesson there for introverts like the two of us. It might be helpful if you can go on personal expeditions for a half a day or maintain solitary periods, even on vacations. Although perhaps you already do this already, and I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. Just FFT: please accept this humble advice in the spirit it’s offered, which of course you’re free to reject.

    Posted January 31, 2025 at 10:51 am | Permalink
  2. Jason says

    Perhaps I am guilty of projection above Malcolm. Again, please feel free to disregard my prescription since it very well may not be relevant.

    Posted January 31, 2025 at 3:12 pm | Permalink
  3. Whitewall says

    Malcolm I know what you mean about the youthful itch to travel having waned. I no longer have any part of it. I have been to plenty of places some fabulous and some down right dangerous and dirty. Through it all I got home safe and sound though occasionally with lingering reminders of the trip.

    Jason you are right about plenty of rest being key to positive interaction with people no matter who they are. My wife and I traveled some up until about four years ago when life changed and I could not leave her anywhere on her own for more than a few minutes. Still we enjoyed what we could until she just could not and did not want to go anywhere. Too painful. These days I am content to be here at home in the senior living community we bought into 6 years ago. Life comes at you fast the older you get.

    Posted January 31, 2025 at 6:53 pm | Permalink
  4. Malcolm says

    Jason, no worries at all – your advice is wise, and it’s exactly what I try to do when traveling.

    Posted January 31, 2025 at 9:38 pm | Permalink

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