I was born to be a wanderer. Growing up, I was the child who was always purposefully getting lost, in the hopes of finding places better and more interesting than wherever I was – and this was such an issue, that my parents put me on a “leash.” As I grew older and more independent, my family realized nothing could contain me, and I was destined to travel the world and live in any country besides Canada.
I was a 14-year-old student on my French class trip to Quebec City when I took my first journey outside of the province. I instantly fell in love with being immersed in their language, culinary and cultural differences. This sparked my love for greater adventures and, when 17, I jumped at the opportunity to travel overseas with my Latin class to Italy and Greece. Years of travelling to my family’s cottage in northern Ontario every weekend during the summer meant that I had been accustomed to long car rides, and I had taken lengthy train and bus trips around Southern Ontario as well, but the thrill of hopping on a plane for the first time became a rush I’d soon become addicted to. I made it a goal to travel via plane at least once a year, preferably outside of Canada. Annual trips included numerous vacations in Central America, which led to me making Nicaragua my home for the summer of 2015 when I chose to study yoga and obtain my teaching certification there.
Nicaragua is a gorgeous, tropical, yet underrated Spanish-speaking paradise. Nestled between Honduras and Costa Rica, “Nica” is a third world country that’s home to a culture poor in wealth but rich in spirit. The dilapidated tin-roof, dirt-floor homes in the barrios are enough of a culture shock to make anyone take a step back and reevaluate their minute woes in their first-world country. Suddenly, my issues back home of fretting over manicure appointments and wanting the newest gadgets seemed so selfish when these people endured hell. Not only did they never know where their next meal was going to come from, but they also watched their family members get gunned down in the streets during situational robberies. I befriended a family that took me into their home, and I experienced what it was like to live without electricity or warm running water. I learned how to appreciate what I have and to desire less. When I returned to Canada, I became a minimalist, selling most of my possessions in order to help fund my future voyages and making it easier to pick up and go whenever the travel bug bit me.
Within hours of being back home, a friend invited me on a girls’ trip to Europe that would change my life forever. Our 3 weeks in Europe took us to England, France, Germany, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, Monaco, Vatican City and the Netherlands. On my travels, I ended up meeting about 50 Australians who were also touring Europe in hope of “finding themselves” and their independence. The Aussies helped me realize that the world is massive and needs to be further explored, and I was convinced that I needed to see their country next. My newfound minimalist tendencies helped make the transition easier when I’d arrived back in Canada to pack my bags and start a life for myself in the land down under.
My family was underwhelmed when I announced I was moving halfway around the world. I booked my plane ticket, quit my job and scrambled to find a job in Melbourne. Leaving Canada in the dead of winter, then spending over forty hours in transit on a plane to Australia, to arrive in the midst of their summer heat-wave was a shock to the system. This newfound freedom of impulsively packing up my life on a whim and gallivanting across the globe had become an obsession. For the next year, in my free time, I would put any disposable income towards flights across Australia to visit other friends, sightsee and obtain my scuba diving certification on the Great Barrier Reef. On my travels, I’d cross paths with other jetsetters from all corners of the Earth, each person stepping into my life to teach me something about myself. These connections further allowed me to create new friendships and places to stay whenever I visited their countries.
I eventually found myself living amongst the rice paddy fields in the mountains of Indonesia. Southeast Asians lead a simpler life. Residents take time to appreciate nature, show everyone respect and, most importantly, are optimistic. I decided one day to leave my home at midnight so that I could summit a volcano to reach the peak for sunrise. On this hike, I came to the realization that life is short. We never know which day will be our last, so it’s crucial to show not only others, but also yourself the respect that you deserve. I had adopted the Sanskrit mantra of “don’t forget, you’re going to die”. Although morbid, it’s important to remember that our time on this planet is finite and that there are always opportunities to grow mentally. And, with that realization, I chose to move back to Canada to take advantage of the inexpensive post-secondary education in order to learn more about the human body and work as a dietitian.
I still struggle to call any one place my “home,” as I continue to travel to other countries during my free time and consider where I should settle down once I graduate and work towards establishing my career. But I’m proud of my experiences, am thankful for the friends I have made in the 22 countries I’ve visited. I look forward to what the future has in store, wherever that may take me.
Erica Beehler