The Apprehensive Traveler
We had the afternoon free on my last full day in Cape Town, South Africa. Members of our small tour group opted for a helicopter ride over the city, another went paragliding, and others elected to ride in a gondola up the side of Table Mountain, while my husband and I joined a group to indulge in a two-hour lunch (with two bottles of wine) overlooking the harbor.
When we gathered later for our farewell dinner, I heard tales of exhilaration from my fellow travelers and thought to myself, “Why didn’t I push myself out of my comfort zone to jump off a cliff and glide over the city?”
As I reflected on that feeling of FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out), I asked myself, “why do I love to travel”? As a perfectionist in recovery, my default preference is routine, control, and visiting drivable locations. Truthfully, I was relieved to stay close to home during the pandemic. I was perfectly content exploring the nearby wine country of the Finger Lakes, the coastline of Maine, and the art scene in the Berkshires. Yet here I was, thousands of miles away in Africa, sleeping in a tent with elephants quietly shuffling by.
I felt exhilarated and terrified at the same time.
I woke up with anxious anticipation for my first safari ride at 6 am. The sun was beginning to rise and it was a chilly 48 degrees. I dressed warmly and boarded a Land Rover-type vehicle. It took about 15 minutes to drive to the dirt and sand-laden roads of Chobe National Park in Botswana.
The sand was thick and, at times, the travel felt similar to an amusement park ride—a ride that I typically avoid as I tend to get motion sickness. Surprisingly, my stomach held up!
We spent several hours exploring the wild terrain. Hippos, guinea hens, elephants, giraffes, baboons, and various vibrantly colored birds surrounded us. I enjoyed watching the elephants grab grass with their trunks and gently shake out the water. It’s amazing how these enormous, multi-ton animals walk so quietly, with a faint rustling through the grass.
The baboons and guinea hens gifted us with non-stop action and entertainment as they chased each other, searched for food, and playfully fought with each other.
When we returned to the camp, I started feeling woozy. I hadn’t escaped the motion sickness after all, and vertigo had taken over. Disappointed, I decided to skip the afternoon safari ride as initially planned, and take it easy for the rest of the day.
Along with another vertigo sufferer from our tour, I decided to get the African foot treatment. By the Chobe River, we had our feet scrubbed and massaged with the sun warming us, watching boats float by.
At dinner that evening, the safari group shared their adventures. They saw lions, which we missed during the morning excursion.
While I initially felt a twang of regret, my vertigo was gone and I was finally feeling better. I realized I had made the best choice… for me.
Then it hit me: the reason why I travel is to learn how to be comfortable with being uncomfortable.
While I may have missed seeing lions or gliding across Cape Town, I felt braver. I didn’t let my inner negative voice—or FOMO—drive my decision-making.
My negative voice scolded me, “You are such a wimp to give in to vertigo. You might never have another opportunity to see a lion in the wild.”
But I made progress, telling myself, “Yes, you may be correct, but I can live with that fact.”
If I didn’t see a lion while on Safari, would that make my life incomplete or a failure? Absolutely not!
My choices that may have seemed “wimpy” or “unpopular”, made me happy.
I returned home feeling a little freer and braver. I faced my worst negative judgmental fears and I fought back against them. I didn’t let them drive my life.
Instead, I trusted myself at the moment to make the choices that were best for me. This feels like a completely new way to live.
Where will this new perspective take me? It’s exhilarating, terrifying and yet beautiful.
