Searching for my Salta at Christmas
Last year I found myself wondering what exactly I was doing with my life. I was, essentially, underachieving on my potential. I took an underpaying job in travel for the opportunity to explore and hopefully understand the world a little bit better. But, the truth is, that I left Canada with the thought in the back of my mind that I wasn’t going to be back any time soon. I told everyone of my intentions to travel/work for a year and then return to grad school, work, and friends. However, I would be lying only to myself if I said that I wasn’t looking for something more. I even wrote an article last year called “The Journey and the Man” which told of a man unsure of his path, his destiny, and his goals. The past little while, there has been a battle of those same thoughts and worries. Those of us who spend exuberant amounts on the road away from family, friends, and general commitments are really only lying to ourselves if we saythat we don’t often worry as to our general purpose in life.
I’ve been reading a lot lately, and the words I’ve read have really started to trigger these thoughts that I had been having back to life. An article written by one of the best travel bloggers out there, Keith Savage, called “Finding the Love in Travel” talked about the caballeros which exist in much of South America, in this case Salta signing songs of home. I’ve seen it nearly everywhere I’ve traveled in South America, men in Salta, Arequipa, and Patagonia alike sing songs about a magnetism that draws them to their home. Keith so romantically draws to the point that his wife is his Salta, what he yearns to return for when he is away. And I think that without realizing, this whole time I’ve been wandering, I too have been searching for my Salta, I just don’t know what my Salta is yet.
I dream of having something hold me with mystical magnetism. The idea that there could be some emotional force so powerful as to retain my ADHD attention to me is incredible. I wish I could tell you that I know what my Salta is, but to this day it remains unclear. Am I looking for a home? A certain truth? Love? I’ve been wandering the world for a long time now in search of something, but have no idea what. And how do you know where to look, if you don’t know what you’re looking for? I think that any honest independent nomad will tell you that this is something that we constantly struggle with.
The road, I’m sure you’re thinking, sounds like my Salta. No matter whether I stay still for one day or one month my
feet scratch the floor and beg for feel of open asphalt below them. But I often wonder if this is myself telling me that what I am looking for is not there, and that it’s time to move on. Can travel be your Salta? Can travel really be your begging spirit?
I’ve turned my attention to “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho which I’ve now read about 10 times. I seem to always turn to the words of this classic book as it seems to assure me of my ways. A young Sheppard, in the novel, travels the world in search of a treasure, his personal destiny. He continues to pursue this personal destiny without knowing what treasure awaits him ahead, only that one exists. He leaves behind love, stability, and what he knows best on his path. All the while he pursues his destiny.
Around Christmas time it is easy to begin wondering if pursuing your personal destiny is selfish and vain, especially if one really has no idea as to what his personal destiny may be.
As Family and friends gather at home, I wander alone in search of my Salta. But there is no real way of explaining to them why I go at it in this way. With each new destination I reach, each new hand I shake or check I kiss, and every smile I share with a friendly stranger makes it harder and harder to leave, I know that I must. My destiny is not here, it’s out there waiting for me to discover it. As Paulo Coelho says, “it’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting.” It is that dream that continues to drive me. It is that dream that continues to push me in my personal search of my Salta.