Adventures in International Education

The trip westward across the Atlantic went a lot smoother than the eastward trip five weeks ago. I’ve learned to travel better. My new rolling luggage worked like a charm. And I’ve (almost) mastered the mantra: “Don’t just do something. Sit there!” Travel, I’ve learned, involves lots of waiting, which for me involves lots of recorded music, contemplation, and reading. 

After exchanging my British coins for folding money, I left the hostel around 0600 London time and walked to the bus stop for the 205 bus to Paddington. I carried my (still overloaded) backpack and my rolling suitcase. At that hour of the morning, my companions included people working at St. Mary’s Hospital, various other early commuters, and the van drivers with deliveries to make.  Smiles abounded and simple courtesies. I watched iconic British taxicabs and travelers with their rolled luggage more up and down the street.

Paddington Station was quiet as I wandered inside its vast vaulted-ceilinged terminal. A very pleasant transport worker helped me pay for my ticket on the Heathrow Express: £25 for a 20-minute ride direct to my airline terminal.

I made one final visit to that famous bear from darkest Peru, Paddington Brown, and remembered the Railway Workers who perished in war.

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My last train ride in England maintained British Rail’s reputation for smooth, dependable transportation. Just as I finished my tea and a breakfast muffin, we arrived at Terminal 2. More money to exchange: Pounds for dollars and some leftover rupees for pounds for dollars. 

My gilet jacket [je-lay] helped considerably with the trip through security. I filled the pockets (with cellphones, pens, passport, belt), placed the entire jacket into the bin, and passed successfully through the metal detector. Thank you, Robert, for suggesting the gilet as a travel tool. It was indispensable.

Then the wait began. I knew before leaving the hostel that my 10:15 flight would leave around 12:55 and I was about four hours early. I settled in among the hundreds of other travelers, first at a Pret A Manger—my go-to place for porridge, breakfast muffins, and tea with coconut milk throughout my London visit (and a firm with a strong sense of social justice and community)—then in the general assembly area. I read and people-watched. I also arranged for a later flight to Burlington to compensate for the delayed start.

The hours flew by. I got through another security check at the gate before boarding the AirBus for Philadelphia. I had reserved an aisle seat when I checked in and, wonder of wonders, the seat next to me was vacant. My vegetarian meal, however, was not on the plane so I endured the seven-hour flight with a salad, some pretzels, and some crumpets from my bag. A sympathetic flight attendant gave me frequent flyer points for the missing meal. I read about India, watched the movie Tolkien, and found a science fantasy novel on my iPad to entertain me. I actually dozed through the takeoff and woke when the captain turned off the seatbelt sign!

Philadelphia involved more security checks, passport scans, and physically moving my checked luggage to a baggage check in. As it turned out, that bag disappeared in Philadelphia and will be delivered to my home. I greeted everyone with a smile and thanked them. More than ever before, I realize that the world runs because of TSA officers, security personnel, cabin attendants, and store clerks. That morning, a security officer’s “Jolly good” brought a smile to my face.

I spent the time in Philadelphia eating dinner, talking with Bob Walsh on the phone (“Hey, remember me?”) and welcoming the feeling of “Back in the USA.” My rescheduled flight didn’t take off until 9:00 pm, and the five-hour time difference meant I’d been traveling for 22 hours. I arrived at Burlington to see Usamah’s smiling face at baggage claim. One of my former high school students, Usamah just finished a two-year program at Community Collge of Vermont, supports himself by driving a cab, and will take the citizenship exam next week. I was glad to see him and we talked all the way to Stowe. It was a new experience to drive down rural country roads at night, so different than the noise and bustle at St. Pancras in London. My house in the woods looked dark and alone.

I got into bed around midnight, 23 hours after I had left the Saint Pancras Hostel. It was a l-o-n-g day. The grass looked overgrown and I had no water (probably due to a power outage), but those problems could wait for tomorrow.

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Being Home

The house felt empty, and realized all the work I had to do to summarize my Fulbright work, prepare a slide show, pay bills, and get ready for the start of school in a few weeks.

On the plus side: I returned with a pocketful of memories and many new friends. I feel different from the person who left unneeded travel items on the bed at the end of June. I am now:

• Traveled.
• More willing to adapt.
• Capable of having conversations with a variety of people.
• Able to test my limits and do something different.
• Accepting of little things—a cup of cool water; a child’s smile; a crumpet with marmalade; a soft bed; time to write; a What’s App message from a friend; getting lost on the Underground; train rides through the country, whether in India or the United Kingdom; an offer to sit down on a crowded train; tea and more tea, made with loose leaves in a pot with soy milk; a kind tuk-tuk driver in Jaipur and another in New Delhi; my Fulbright colleagues in both India and the United States; the students and teachers I came to know in Mahe.

All these little things make up the mosaic that is travel, an image that remains at my core and will affect what I do today and tomorrow. I have many memories of new friends—and ongoing support from old friends—to further sustain me in my re-entry into my life.

Some might call it “self-concept clarity.” Others quoteGerman philosopher Hermann von Keyserling’s book Travel Diaries of a Philosopher (1919) to encapsulate the effects of travel:

“The shortest path to oneself leads around the world.”

https://remoteyear.com/blog/how-travel-changes-you-and-your-life

Add Michael Crichton’s ideas about travel into the mix:

Often I feel I go to some distant region of the world to be reminded of who I really am. There is no mystery about why this should be so. Stripped of your ordinary surroundings, your friends, your daily routines, your refrigerator full of your food, your closet full of your clothes — with all this taken away, you are forced into direct experience. Such direct experience inevitably makes you aware of who it is that is having the experience. That’s not always comfortable, but it is always invigorating.” 

Quoted by Chris Pardo in Plus Relocation.

Yes, the refrigerator needs cleaning and I must arrange to repair the car. There’s mail to pick up at the Post Office and bills to pay. There are the luxuries of doing laundry, unpacking, sleeping in my own bed, and living in my own home.

Through all the plans for today and tomorrow, next week and next month, runs the little thought: I’m different today because of where I’ve been. I hope I can retain that feeling of newness and excitement for a while—at least until my next trip. Hopefully, the adventure continues.

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References: Benefits of Travel

Alcuin, Nick. On Education.

Hajo, Adam, Obodaru, Otilia, Lu, Jackson, Maddox, William, & Galinsky, Adam (2018). Semantic Scholar.

Pardo, Chris. Plus Relocation.

Young, Emma. British Psychological Society Research Digest.