Nothing. Yet Everything.

Traveling does not equal vacationing for me. Don’t get me wrong—I have vacationed, and I still will. But traveling is different. Now that I’m a couple days from ending this three-week excursion, of course I’m getting reflective about it, and I’ll definitely say it has included more traveling than vacationing. Of everything I’ve experienced during the last few weeks, the only portions that matter to me—the only pieces I will even remember—are of two kinds: (1) interactions with people, and (2) anything that has struck me on a sensory level.

For example, on this rainy Rome Sunday, I am perfectly content to spend a fair amount of time sitting in my apartment drinking coffee and writing. I’m not out sightseeing, but Rome’s noise and aroma are right outside my window. For me, this experience is no less valid than any other, and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything.

Yesterday I was returning from Germany back to Rome. I had an early evening flight, so I had most of the day to do whatever I wanted. What I chose to do is not likely what many others would choose, but I thoroughly enjoyed it. I took a train from Bacharach to Mainz, which has a much larger station, and I sat there for several hours. I watched people come and go, in and out, as I remained in the same spot. An old man struck up a conversation with me. He was waiting for his son to arrive for a visit, and I heard all about his family and how he is coping with the death of his wife of 40 years. I’ll probably never forget his face, or sitting on that train station bench next to him. After a few hours in Mainz, I took a bus to the small Frankfurt-Hahn airport, from which I would be flying back to Rome. There, again, I sat for several hours, watching people come and go, in and out, as I remained. I met a young angst-ridden Italian guy, Gabriele, who sat next to me and told me that his life in the last few weeks has been like a book. And that it’s good if you’re the one reading the book, but not if you’re the one living it. I said, “I know, I’ve been there.”

I am certain—I mean utterly certain—that I will remember this day of sitting in train stations and airports with much more fondness than I would if I had chosen to do something touristy or see some sights.

In the last few weeks I’ve spent a lot of time in observational solitude, reconnected with old friends, met new friends, walked around aimlessly, sweated profusely in the uncomfortable humidity, dealt with banking issues, tried to figure out what the hell I’m doing with my life, had the one traveling experience that really made me feel I’m not cut out for this (the hospital), slept, ate, drank, stared at the sky. Essentially, I’ve done a lot of nothing. Yet everything.

It’s sometimes difficult to see when you’re “in” it, but in my mind there are no “good” or “bad” experiences. There are only experiences, and no matter their form, they are an integral part of what shapes me and creates the ever-evolving person that I am. I look forward to more…