Send me on my way in the USA
Declaring that you’re voluntarily taking a 72 hour trip by train is apparently enough to have people question your sanity. But the time between boarding in Detroit, the 20 degree weather having delayed the train right from the start, and getting back on solid ground in balmy California, proved to be surprisingly relaxing. No laptop. No screaming deadlines. A fifth of Jameson disguised as Vitamin Water proved to make friends easily, and somehow I found myself in the Amtrak lounge car at midnight with Jake and his dog Bella, sharing liquor and an overpriced microwave burger.
There’s this thing that happens when you’re young, single and talk about wanting to move to a different country; you end up getting a lot of marriage proposals.
In Jake’s defense, he was the first one to back it up with a ring.
The small bag he pulled from his jacket was filled with jewelry, which he said he was planning to sell once we arrived in California. “It kind of sucks. I’ve got all this valuable stuff on me but only had a few bucks in cash. So I spent it on beer when we stopped in Denver”, he said, wolfing down his half of my burger. “Train trip without food is do-able, but not without beer.” The rings turned out to be beach treasures, found in Florida with his uncle’s metal detector, which was one of his hobbies when he wasn’t growing pot on the hill behind his house. “The secret is that you’ve gotta talk to the plants. They’ll grow like crazy and become so strong. They feel the love you put out there.”
Feeling the love for him meant taking off whenever he felt like it, in this case to find some long lost friends in Sacramento and make goat’s cheese in a commune. “Or maybe I’ll go to Portland. Wherever life guides me, you know? I’m a shaman. I heal people. It’s what I’m here for.”
The result of no cell phone reception, a limited stash of food and a nightly train ride through some of the most impressive landscape you’ve ever laid eyes on, is that it makes you feel utterly free. Many of my friends had gone off to Thailand or Australia to find themselves, but for me it was right there on a train across the Rockies. Meeting new people means being confronted with who you are – it’s not about going on a quest, but about how you decide to tell your story.
Thirty seconds, or maybe 30 minutes if it’s a really long night, to introduce yourself with all of your purpose and being to these new temporary friends, and an endearing shaman guy just might pop the question as he offers you a golden ring with an emerald. “It suits you. Green and strong, free. It’d be just so you can get the paper work settled – I can keep things completely platonic. No worries. Like I said, I’m all about helping people.”
He’s a better catch than the proposal you received earlier on the train, from the bearded, middle aged St. Louis native, who proudly sported his red dungarees and assured you that his girlfriend wouldn’t mind because “…there’s plenty of me to go around, you know what I mean?”. During a quick stop in Salt Lake City in the pitch dark, you join Jake outside to have a smoke and take in some fresh air. Twelve hours later, you’re saying goodbye to each other as you head towards the bus and he trails off somewhere with his dog, still holding the last bit of Jameson you gave to him.
There’s probably a cheesy Paulo Coelho quote about the journey being more valuable than the destination, but you know that actually holds some truth when San Francisco doesn’t turn out to be what you were hoping for. The great thing about traveling solo though is that it doesn’t always have to be amazing. Discovering a city doesn’t suit you at all can be considered a win because congratulations, now you know where you don’t belong.
So when you stumble to a vegan taco stand at 2 a.m. with that gorgeous Brazilian guy, you realize that it’s fine to say you like L.A. a lot more than San Francisco. Even though the locals here will crucify you for that. Your trip and this city have now become part of your introductory story, and you didn’t even have to climb a Thai volcano to figure out this part of yourself.
About the Author: Adi works as a writer and communications specialist for non-profit and human rights organizations, travelling across the world.
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“In Jake’s defense, he was the first one to back it up with a ring.” — This is where this story hooked me. Lovely and evocative.