As the holiday season fades and the euphoria of Christmas and New Year’s celebrations ebbs, we find ourselves on the threshold of a fresh year, often promising new beginnings. Returning to our routines, many of us eagerly exchange tales of our recent travels. Some still bask in the afterglow of European adventures, visits to relatives in England, or sun-kissed memories of watching cricket matches in Australia. Yet, this collective wanderlust prompts a pertinent question: When did travel become not just desirable, but seemingly obligatory? Consider the case of Sarah, a young professional who spent three months planning an Instagram-worthy trip to Bali, only to find herself constantly checking work emails and feeling anxious about the projects she left behind. Or Mark, who embarked on a luxury cruise but spent most of his time comparing his experience to the carefully curated social media posts of friends on similar voyages.
Historically, traversing oceans was often viewed with trepidation, associated with ill omens and misfortune due to the perils of maritime voyages. Fast forward to today, and we find ourselves in a peculiar paradox. Our civilization now appears compelled to travel, driven by an insatiable need to showcase our experiences on social media and engage in an unspoken competition of who visited the most exotic locales or flew in the most luxurious class. The phenomenon of “last-chance tourism” further illustrates our travel compulsion. Tourists flock to endangered destinations like the Great Barrier Reef or glaciers in Iceland, ironically contributing to the very environmental degradation they wish to witness before it’s too late.
However, the post-travel euphoria inevitably wanes, and we often find ourselves reverting to our former selves – equally short-tempered and agitated, grappling with the same issues we sought to escape. The journey we truly need to embark upon is an internal one, a voyage of self-discovery that popular travel culture seems to discourage vehemently. In the wake of the pandemic, we’ve witnessed an unprecedented surge in travel, with figures skyrocketing. This phenomenon could be attributed to a collective reaction against the confinement experienced during lockdowns – a “reverse lockdown” of sorts, where the thought of staying home became almost unbearable.
Take the example of a family I know who, after months of isolation, booked back-to-back vacations for an entire year, only to find themselves more exhausted and disconnected than ever before. Or consider the rise of “workcations,” where individuals attempt to combine work and leisure, often resulting in neither being fully enjoyed. What many fail to recognize is that this compulsion is fuelled by a meticulously crafted, billion-dollar industry designed to foster discontent with our everyday lives. We’re inundated with curated images of picture-perfect families with sculpted physiques and beaming children on idyllic beaches, leaving us feeling as though we’re missing out on some essential life experience.
Interestingly, social media and travel companies rarely promote the joys of staying home – the satisfaction of organizing one’s space, savouring a coffee with a partner, or enjoying a board game with children. The Danish concept of “hygge” (pronounced hoo-ga) offers a compelling alternative to our travel obsession. Hygge embodies a feeling of cozy contentment and well-being through enjoying the simple things in life. It’s about creating a warm atmosphere, enjoying the company of good friends or family, and finding comfort in life’s little pleasures. Lighting candles, wrapping up in a soft blanket with a good book, or sharing a homemade meal with loved ones – these are all examples of hygge. This philosophy encourages us to find joy and fulfilment in our immediate surroundings, challenging the notion that we need to travel far and wide to find happiness or meaningful experiences. By embracing hygge, we might discover that the contentment we seek through travel has been within our reach all along, nestled in the familiar corners of our own homes.
As Seneca wisely noted, “Do you ask why such flight does not help you? It is because you flee along with yourself. You must lay aside the burdens of the mind; until you do this, no place will satisfy you.” Perhaps it’s time we heed Seneca’s advice and recognize that being everywhere also means to be nowhere. Seneca’s profound insight cuts to the heart of our modern travel compulsion. His words remind us that geographical change alone cannot remedy internal discontent. When we travel to escape our problems or ourselves, we inadvertently pack our troubles in our suitcases, only to unpack them at our destination. The philosopher’s advice to “lay aside the burdens of the mind” suggests that true satisfaction comes from addressing our inner turmoil rather than seeking external distractions. This ancient wisdom resonates deeply in our age of constant movement and digital nomadism. The notion that “being everywhere also means to be nowhere” speaks to the rootlessness that can result from perpetual travel. When we’re always on the move, we risk losing our sense of place and belonging. We may accumulate experiences and Instagram-worthy moments, but we might miss out on the depth of connection and understanding that comes from truly inhabiting a place.
Finding contentment in our own lives and homes is not about settling for less; it’s about cultivating a rich inner life and appreciating the beauty in our immediate surroundings. By turning our gaze inward and to our immediate surroundings, we may find the fulfilment and growth we’ve been seeking in far-off lands. In the end, the most meaningful travels may be those that lead us to a deeper understanding of ourselves and our place in the world. The journey of self-discovery often doesn’t require a passport.
