A Travel Misconception: Going Nowhere

The past couple weeks I've been slyly and selfishly planning my tangible resolutions for the New Year: submit one pitch a week, publish one article a month, blog more regularly, enter a fiction/poetry contest (and win?), get into a better workout routine, save up and enroll in MatadorU, travel out of the U.S. at least once.

I've been bragging about the last one.

One friend, upong learning of this goal, invited me to Europe with her.

"We can stay with a friend of mine in the United Kingdom!" she explained.

"No thanks," I responded. "I'm aiming for South America. Never been."

Another friend laughed at my resolution, saying we should head up to Canada for a fun weekend away.

"I don't think so," I replied, bathing in the Argentine sun on my mind, backpacking through Chile or Brazil or Uruguay.

Today a coworker from Austrailia told me something I already know, but often overlook: America is one of the most beautiful countries. Then one of my bosses began to recount his treks across Denali. Another superior spoke kindly--and passionately--of his time camping in Yosemite.

I have never been to Yosemite or Denali. I have not explored our widely acclaimed national parks--a testament to the fact that watching the PBS documentary never quite fit into my schedule.

Travel in your own backyard is different than thousands of mile journeys--but local settings can be just as enlightening and refreshing. I remember walking down my street--a street I'd lived on for 12 years--and seeing it in completely new eyes, wishing I had a pen and paper to write it all down, to savior this dawning revelation in words and pictures.

Seeing the world is not out of reach for me. Having studied Latin American conflict in school, I feel compelled to visit--to find the voiceless and give them voice. But there are those who need voices in my own country, my own neighborhood. There is a homeless man who begs on 18th Street near my office; one day I'd like to sit on the curb with him, hear his story, take it all in.

As travelers, as writers, even as humans, this is the singlehandedly most important fact to remember--and easiest to forget: going far can sometimes mean having to go nowhere.