I’ve been meandering around the world for one year.

It feels more like a birthday than my actual birthday.

This year has been all part of a larger curiosity, to find out what will happen to me if I don’t go home for at least five years.

 

 

The full circle of February 7th to February 7th makes me proud of myself. Thoughts of the love and adrenaline that I have experienced in between these dates make me so emotional.

I’ve eaten sheep-head couscous and fried guinea pig and a boiled snail.

I’ve slept with kittens curled at my feet, in the bunk of moving semi trucks, and on the in the cozy homes of several hitchhike drivers.

I’ve laughed at dancing blue-footed boobies, giggling parrots, and alpacas with odd facial shaves.

I’ve danced in train-dining-carts, on the side of the road, and till close.

I’ve hiked amongst the mountains of Patagonia, of the Andes that descend into Machu Picchu, and of the Mediterranean coast.

Oh yeah, and one of my friends towed me 5,776 kilometers in his camper van named Bob. And I hitchhiked 11,805 more.

 

 

Someone recently told me it will take 3-4 years after I cease my travels before I really see all the changes and realizations. I believe him.

For now, here are ten minor differences that I can already sense.

 

1. Languages.

I love the feeling of a new language on my tongue. The moment I set foot in a new country, I put in my best effort to pick up what I can.

I usually pester the airport staff or immigration officials for “hello” and “thank you” upon arrival. By Week 3 I’ll know “how are you,” “no problem,” and “pancake.”

In Turkey and Morocco, the use of a word or two got me asked on a daily basis if I spoke Turkish or Arabic.

Restarting Spanish Duolingo from Lesson One and starting Chinese Duolingo were some of the best decisions I made on this trip.

 

2. Consumerism.

A few months ago I finally started detaching myself from brand-name snacks. I am actively avoiding supermarkets and all their annoying food packaging.

I realized I say I want to help people as a doctor, yet buying one single item from the corporate food industry involves exploiting so many of the very people I want to help, just to make it into my hands before I mindlessly eat it. I was being a hypocrite.

I still love a good munchies run. I remind myself to reach for local fruit and nuts, healthier street food, and handmade treats that sit in unlabeled jars of mini markets. It’s a more spiritual form of consumption as I move through the developing world.

 

 

3. Mandarins.

I also decided that if I want to be a doctor who helps others stay healthy, I can no longer give children anything with added sugar anymore. Because it is killing them.

I started buying a kilo of mandarin oranges every day or two, and sharing these fruits with hitchhike drivers and the children we passed by rather than chocolates and cookies. And a kilo in Morocco is just 40 cents!

 

4. How useless media is.

The media outlets of the world are a bunch of repetitive, mind-numbing pieces of shit. When I want to gain information about a place, I more than ever stick to talking to the people who actually live there.

 

5. To truly understand a country, you should spend time outside of that country.

The news on the same current event can be so different when going from one country to another.

I started noticing significant misunderstandings that people had about their own country and that I had about mine. The perspective from within isn’t enough. The perspective from abroad isn’t enough. Both are necessary.

 

6. How we treat each other.

Hitchhiking around the Caucasus Mountains and Morocco really touched something within me. When people with so little try to give you everything and more, and you receive this love many times through each day, it really rubs off.

In a way that is far more profound than what random acts of kindness back home achieve.

You become a reflection of them.

On the other hand, when people are not nice to me, or when they judge me unkindly, I rarely feel anything. I instantly think about how I am living my dream, and that I have everything I need and want, and I move on with my day.

 

7. Muslims.

Turkey was my first Muslim-majority country. I also went to Azerbaijan and Morocco shortly thereafter. And within these countries, I freaking love the Muslims I met.

Similar to how I got sick of the worldwide misconceptions regarding the African continent, I cannot accept the misconceptions and unwarranted fear of the international Muslim community that I encounter so often.

They are some of the kindest people I have ever traveled among. I feel so comfortable, if not more comfortable, traveling in these countries. If I didn’t believe we’re all the same, I’d say there’s something extra special about it.

The religion itself teaches one to care for others before caring for oneself. When my first good Muslim friend and I took a flight together, I looked beside me to find him reading a prayer during take-off for the safety of everyone on board.

 

8. Family structure.

My family never prioritized family. I see my grandparents every couple of years for a few days.

Hitchhiking into rural and traditional villages, and interacting with Hamza’s family and extended family in Morocco, gave me up-close views of family structure. The dynamics between generations, the gender roles. The hospitality, home-making, and child-rearing that so much of the world still clings to.

I became a part of several families. Each family made me a better person.

 

9. Animals.

Somewhere in the middle of chucking thawed chicken bones at cats, dogs, birds, and a boar, I re-connected with animals.

Years of studying, working, and attending extracurricular activities made me rather lose touch with my own pet chickens. I lost my empathy for strays around the world. When I left, I could hardly look at a cat without feeling intense irritation.

But as a traveler, sometimes furry friends force their way into my bed. And into my heart.

 

 

10. Saudades.

It goes without saying that I’ve gotten close to some really, really great people within the last year. I’ve tasted a new form of loving and then missing someone that I never knew existed before.

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Sometimes I wonder if I’m too young. My observations aren’t so deep, my understanding of the world is still maturing. I haven’t figured out a cure for the greed or despair plaguing developing countries.

It’s like the more I see, the less I see.

But then I tell myself that I’ll never have now again. Every day is a gift. I’ve met people who have done more from a younger age. It’ll be many years before I’ll appreciate the full magnitude of it all.

I am writing from my uncle’s home in China. My relatives and I just celebrated Chinese New Year. It’s the Year of the Pig. My grandfather, two aunts, and myself, all have the pig zodiac.

My life is so random, but at the same time it’s not so random. In the end I always find that everything happens for a reason.

Of course before this trip I had acknowledged to myself the existence of something greater that gives me each moment of each day, and the phenomenon continues.