Plan on not planning
05/16/2009 at 14:05 from (47.525054, -122.048447)
So much has changed for the two of us over the past two years. We've moved ourselves, sold our things, converted to mass transit and cycling, altered our diet, reformed our savings strategies, and drastically re-thought when and how we spend money. Everything, from our wardrobes to our very attitudes, is so different from when we started that it's difficult to imagine now how we felt and acted then.
In fact, with so much change, it's tempting to think that nothing has stayed the same. And yet, there is one constant: this trip never seems to get any closer.
Of course, a lot has to happen over the course of the next four months if we expect to pull off our little adventure. Insurance needs to be bought. We need to be immunized. Bills must be paid and jobs need to be satisfactorily wrapped up.
But that still leaves a lot of dangerous finger-twiddling time. The more time someone like me has on their hands, the more likely they are to resort to that cardinal travel sin: planning.
Background
I'm cursed with a perfectionist streak and a need for control in just about everything I do. I'm rarely as willing as Marijana is to let fate take the wheel (which is probably why I'm a lot more stressed out than she is). I get peeved when the world chooses not to flow in time with my schedule. Elements of this aggressive control freak can be plainly seen if you just scroll back through previous posts.
In essence, I am not a fan of the unexpected. And to be honest, the idea of a long-term trip terrifies the part of me that hates the prospect of being ill-prepared for anything.
And so, in my weaker moments, I do things like research the best fabrics for warm weather and evaluate them in terms of breathability, durability, weight, appearance, origin, and price. I pack, re-pack, and shop for replacements for what little trip-specific equipment we've bought. I obsess over details that should, by rights, play hardly any discernable role in my enjoyment of our trip.
Why is this bad?
The danger in planning is that it is utterly contrary to the very idea of travel. The whole point is to go somewhere outside of your realm of comfort and experience something entirely alien -- to soak in the culture, the people, the environment. This is a passive activity, and can only be fully appreciated when the traveler is relaxed and free from expectations.
By attempting to assert order from a distance, travel becomes an active enterprise. Deadlines, goals, and expectations lead to a trip spent endlessly evaluating and looking forward, not experiencing and looking around. Time better spent meeting, learning, observing, and enjoying is instead spent worrying.
And besides all that, there is the greater point that we cannot control what we experience. I know it sounds a little too Eastern and clichéd to be practical, but as participants in this universe, we really do have remarkably little dominion over our experiences, as is evidenced by such inconvenient disruptions as late trains, flu outbreaks, and tidal waves. The very thought that we control much of anything is just a silly illusion, usually perpetuated by the kind of people who would like to convince you that their products will help you gain a little power over the chaos of life.
Don't get me wrong, a little planning is necessary and order is something we humans depend on. We crave it for very valid reasons (predictable crop yields are a good thing, while sudden droughts are not). Too much order, though, can be the kiss of death for something as intentionally spontaneous as an adventure.
Solution
In an attempt to cope with the seemingly interminable creep of time and avoid being lured into planning's tempting maw, we've tried to pack every hour of every day with as much activity as possible, right up until the moment we leave.
Obviously, we both already have a lot to do. Marijana's finishing up school in her typical stellar fashion and I'm panicking my way through work. To keep ourselves from burning out, though, we're both back in the water, swimming competitively. Training currently accounts for nine of my hours a week, and by the summer that number will grow to over 20 for each of us. I now regularly commute from the suburbs of Seattle (Issaquah, to be precise) to downtown on my bike, which consumes another seven hours of every week.
So we're keeping busy. But in addition, I've been working on resisting the urge to over-plan and trying to be more tolerant of a certain amount of disorder. I know that, if I want to start enjoying myself, I'm going to have to take a cue from my girl and chill out. After all, it would be a waste of an adventure if I had to spend half of it learning how to relax and roll with the punches.