My father wisely said to me once when discussing careers that one must change ones job once every seven years to avoid stagnating in ones ambitions - 'one must never become comfortable' he said. With new challenges come renewed energy, personal development and furthering of knowledge. He often uses the analogy of the door; 'keep the door open' (options); 'don't close any doors' (relationships); 'new doors have opened' (opportunities).
Before we set off travelling Ruth and I had both been through a very intense period in our lives balancing work and social life with living far from our families; we were stretched thin and needed a change. Not everyone around us understood how we could so easily up-root and seemingly 'give up' all that we had; jobs, flat, salary and car. For many people that we have met in India the idea of not working for 8 months is inconceivable, never mind not having a home to return to at the end of it - one of the most common questions asked being; 'how did you get a holiday for so long', followed by the upfront; 'how can you afford it?'
Economic society, European or Indian, is constructed around the idea that people work, pay taxes, nurture a younger generation and prosper together. Taking an 8 month leave is in many cases seen as going against the grain. Now, I'm no rebel, believe me, I want a house to knock-down, re-build and renovate too (preferably with a nice profit once sold), and going travelling for me is not about giving society the middle finger. I have always been curious of other cultures and of seeing different landscapes from the ones I grew up in. I think that the one really important characteristic of a good architect is their sensibility to context and people; you learn a great deal about yourself and the place you're from when seen in contrast to completely different cultures. So going travelling is about further education; it's about the Theory of Doors.
As Adil, an Israeli guy we met in Meghalaya, put it; travelling is a four-stage process of relating to the door. Firstly, one must realise the door is there; secondly, one must dare to open the door; thirdly, one must step through the door; and fourthly, one must choose whether to close or leave the door open.
Ruth and I met as flat-mates in Edinburgh in 2005, and I remember taking my first tumble towards falling for her whilst we compared stories about far-flung places and about New Zealand in particular; we were both certain to go travelling again as soon as University was over. We knew the opportunities, the meetings and the fun that lay behind this door. The first stage is about dreaming, imagining the time away together, the places you will visit and the people you will meet. And we dreamt about this trip since then, seeing the door every day but not touching the handle - life pushed in and other priorities crept in. That's why the second stage is such a defining one, because you either open the door or you spend the rest of your life wondering what's behind it. It's an emotional moment when you turn the handle, you turn your life upside down, every penny goes towards saving, you have awkward meetings about leaving work, you say goodbye to many good friends knowing that things will not be quite the same when, or if (see stage 4), you come back.
Stepping through the door is not as simple as getting on the airplane. I left my office job four months before we flew out of Heathrow to start up my own business; I flew out knowing that I had four very exciting projects to return to. So although my body had arrived in India, my mind was still at home - I switched off and packed away the computer only 5 hours before departure. My mind was also with friends, and as I've come to realise whilst away, with my family; I've not seen them nearly as much as I would have liked to in the past five years.
Stepping through is a transition from home to away. It is a movement into the present leaving behind manufactured commitments for selfish fancy to dictate the mood of the day. Eventually, you allow yourself to pause the realities of home and become a traveller, which, for me, happened whilst trekking in Nepal. From that point onwards you finally relax and the reasons for opening that door in the first place gain clarity; time to reflect, time for conversations, time for Ruth.
Adil, our Israeli friend, was on his own personal journey; travelling for him was a state of being and his journey was conceptual as well as, I suspect, psychological. He wanted to attempt to leave everything behind - including values. He wanted to completely become part of the fabric of the place he happened to be in, without pre-conceptions; he wanted to step through and then to close the door behind him.
I can, in an 'Into the Wild' kind of way admire Adil's point of view, but now, whilst contemplating our imminent return home, I'm very grateful for being able to step back through that open door. I have become an uncle whilst away, to Elliot, and I can't wait to meet him, my sister is getting married this summer and we have a handful of other weddings to celebrate with amazing friends when back. The past eight months has given us that energy that we so dearly lacked, energy that we will now share with our friends and our families.
This hasn't been an eight month holiday; it has been an eight month period of reflection and of allowing ten years of very intense education to settle. I have made incredible connections in the Andamans; new doors that have opened which I would never have known had we not travelled. I opened a new door, and left it wide open, just before leaving with starting my business and have brilliant projects waiting to start up now we're back. I am excited about developing these in the years ahead; and now I have heaps of energy for it!
I fell in love with Ruth over a conversation on travelling and this trip has nothing but re-affirmed that love. This trip has given us experiences and friends that will define us forever; experiences that have strenghtened us as a couple and which will form the foundation for new ones. I am excited to come home and if you ask me 'what's next?', I'll answer you in a sobbing Ben Fogle manner: 'family'?!
