25 May 2016

People like to plan out their travels to every last detail. The thing is, whether you’re travelling Europe in an air-conditioned bus or catching third-class trains across India, plans really aren’t that necessary. Travelling is really about the wild nights, the laughs and the amazing people you meet along the way. In other words, it’s about the stuff you couldn’t really have planned in the first place.

I went travelling as soon as I finished high school. I’d been saving my pennies by stacking shelves at a supermarket after school and on weekends. Before I knew it I was 18, I had money and I was going.

It wasn’t until I got on a flight to Bangkok, the capital of Thailand, that I started to think about where I was going and what I was doing.

“I don’t even have my first night of accommodation booked,” I sheepishly told the older Australian man sitting next to me.

The flight arrived at midnight and as I picked my bag up from the baggage carousel it finally sunk in that I had no idea what I was doing. I wasn’t particularly confident. The older Australian man from the flight helped me exchange my Australian dollars for Thai baht and then helped me get a taxi to Khao San Road, the tourist district.

Over the next few months I got ripped off, I ate questionable, non-descript hunks of meat and I indulged in cheap cocktails that were served in large plastic buckets. Instead of researching destinations and categorically ticking them off a bucket list, I found that I was better at meeting people and following them around, at least until I could meet more interesting people to follow around. I was more interested in hearing people’s stories than getting photos in front of buildings.

Instead of planning, I learned to travel by seeing and doing. And I eventually figured out how to travel by myself.

Three months later I was hitchhiking from Amsterdam to Barcelona with a 60 year old gay man who was continually hinting at hooking up with me. I laughed off his advances, but let him take me out to lunch in a nice restaurant facing the Mediterranean Sea. It was slightly uncomfortable but also fairly amusing, for both of us, I think. The man didn’t speak much English, but he smiled a lot and knew where to get a good Spanish paella. It was the best meal I’d had in months.

The thing is though, if I’d made plans, I wouldn’t have enjoyed that delicious, and unexpected meal. Lacking plans made my travels more interesting, unpredictable and wild. It made things more fun.

I’m not ripping on people who choose to plan their travels, I’m just saying it’s not always a necessity. Travelling requires patience, a good sense of humour and social skills, but you don’t need to book every stage of the journey before you leave home. When you fail to make plans at all, great things can happen.

Written by Nat Kassel