Nature has a weird way of beating itself up. But even though it’s sad when natural beauty and light depletes, there’s nothing pathetic about it. It’s the way of life—a default course of action. Artificial things, however, are prone to deterioration faster and in an uglier fashion than nature. It’s when you see them side by side that you notice how time and surroundings weathers both natural and man-made phenomena.
This is a photo of the Narrows Bridge Memorial Park in Tacoma, Washington. I was on a train from Portland to Seattle when I saw this massive old structure still standing, yet worn with age.
Aloneness has always been my happy place. Although most people would assume I suffer from social anxiety, it’s in fact a bad case of intense affection to solitude. I find that it helps me focus on my thoughts and prioritise myself. The society I grew up in, however is overprotective to the point of patronising. My parents make constant effort to prevent me from being too alone.
My father, in particular, agonises that I’d end up forever alone. It’s this deep-seethed fear that makes him flare up with emotion every time I hint at going out alone. And to avoid causing more pain than he already feels, I often choose to obey rather than counter argue. It’s easier for the both of us when I avoid confrontation. Besides, at 60+, it’s almost impossible to introduce change in his attitude. There’s just too much inertia there.
It thrilled me when my boss announced I’d be travelling to the US with a colleague for a work event. Here was my chance to venture on my own, a chance I wouldn’t forgo. I decided to extend my trip by five days and inaugurate my solo travel experience.
Hello, SFO!
Soon, with lots of help from my North American colleagues, I’d made travel and accommodation arrangements in Portland and in Seattle. I’d spoken to strangers, made flight reservations for myself, and even mapped out my itinerary. I felt proud. I realised I’d organised my life without being my parents’ puppet. By the time I left home and embarked the flight, I had everything for the following month planned out, ready for life to play it out.
Finishing up the work event, my colleague returned home as I prepared to run solo. As I walked out from my employer’s sponsorship and embraced my own, I felt my entire weight on my shoulders. To my sheer surprise, though, it neither scared me nor dragged me down. It, instead, made me feel complete and independent.
For the first time, I realised, I—who’s never felt autonomy in personal life—could manage being a part of the world on my own. Growing more and more fond of that comforting thought, I took off on my journey.
I couldn’t have planned and scheduled any of it without my friends and friends of theirs I acquainted with during the process. But I no longer expected my father to do the talking on my behalf. I didn’t need him to set up my life for me. And that, I think, is the most pivotal part of every first time solo traveller’s life—finding their own path, and accepting its consequences.
Portland is a city every traveller must visit. It’s the kind of city that makes even the most compulsive nomad to linger and perhaps stay awhile. Within five days of being there, I couldn’t help but entertain the idea of moving there myself. Not that I would, but I fantasise. Aside from rich cultural heritage and jealousy-inducing nature, there’s so much about Portland to cherish.
Variety
The Red Light, a clothing store in Portland.
Portland is famous for its chill attitude. It’s like the new cool kid on the block that everyone wants to be friends with. When in Portland, you wear what you want, you look what you like, and you believe what you want to believe in. No matter how strange or how quirky your preferences and lifestyle are, Portlanders won’t judge. The cheeky folk they are, they smile and embrace the fusion that different people bring to their city.
Walkers first
On the way to Mt. Tabor, Portland
Streets of Portland
I love walking. The biggest problem with a lot of places is the lack of respect and consideration for those who travel on foot. Where I live, for instance, cars and motorcycles are so frequent and so many that it’s often scary to step onto the street for fear of a speeding motorist knocking you down. In Portland, however, I saw designated sidewalks. Of course, the same is true of many other places in America, but Portland goes a step further. I had so many vehicles stop to let through me walk by. For the first time in my life I felt respected on the street. I flet like royalty.
Rights for bicyclists
Cup & Bar, a coffee shop with a place to hang bicycles.
Portland loves bicycles as much as America loves its coffee. Everywhere I went, there were special concessions for bicyclists. Buses and trains had separate stands for riders travelling with their bikes, while brochures and route maps encouraged people to bring along their bikes. I even saw bike stands in a local coffee shop. On the street, right next to the pedestrian walkway were large bicycle lanes. From the little of America I’d seen, I realised the bike lanes in Portland are wider than the ones in Pleasanton, San Francisco, and Seattle.
Inclusion
Tempeh sandwich and vegan pasta, Portland
During my five days in Portland, I didn’t feel alien for one moment. Everything about the people made me feel welcome and comfortable. For someone so new to the first world, I adjusted and felt at home right away. And it wasn’t just me either. So many people from so many varying parts of the world lived in Portland united by the love for the city. It showed, too, in every street corner and in every shop I stepped into. From scrumptious meat to decadent vegan desserts, the city has something for every taste. People go out of their way to make each other feel comfortable and less self-conscious.
Water
An unfamiliar experience about the US was drinkable tap water. Although some of my American colleagues prefer bottled water, after some initial inertia, I knew the tap was fine. The taste, however, differed ever so little. Throughout my stay in California, it didn’t bother me at all. Then I went to Portland. When I took the first sip of tap water there, I was too surprised for words. Tap water in Portland was so tasty that it felt plain, refreshing, and clean. Unlike the tap water in California which tasted like purified water, Portland’s water tasted like natural water. I later learnt that Mt. Tabor reservoirs are the major water resources for the city. That’s also why Portland boats the best of beer and coffee breweries.
Local love
Eggurt, a local product
Made in PDX, Portland
It’s impossible not to notice how proud Portlanders are of their local culture. Everywhere I went there was a local-made product. From arts and crafts, to clothing, produce, beer, and coffee, “Made in Portland” is a phrase you can’t miss.
All that said,
When there’s so much goodness in one place, there’s bound to be some problems too. Portland’s biggest crisis is housing. From what I heard from a local tour guide, a lot of Californians have moved to Portland in the past few years bringing with them inflating house prices and increasing homelessness. Although it wasn’t visible, the city folk do harbour a certain distaste toward Californian migrants. Regardless, Portland remains as welcoming and as attractive as ever. It’s a place I would return just for the sake of it.
Growth comes to all in different ways. For some it comes in spurts while for some others it comes in a slow, agonising manner. Regardless of how we grow and evolve in our personal and professional lives, one thing remains the same: nature gives us all what it takes to become bigger and better. For a tree, she gives sunshine, soil, and water. For us, she gives the trees. Looking up at the expanse of branches over my head, I felt assured—I knew my time would come just as it did for that tree.
The past year gave me a lot of new experiences. I had to step out of my comfort zone and find new zones I’m comfortable with. A major part of it came from my trip to the US. It was an official trip that taught me more than official stuff.
Even before the actual travel, every bit of preparation was a new journey by itself. From filling up the visa application, biometrics, and visa interview, to planning, packing, clothing, and embarking the boeing, every moment felt special.
From the moment I landed, everything I looked at awed me. Having lived all my life in a third world country, I can’t explain my wonderment at walking through wide roads, observing paved sidewalks, reserved bicycle paths, and moving traffic. India is famous for its clogged streets—not only do we have unmoving vehicles honking in impatience but we also inhale the smoke from out-dated vehicles that should’ve lost their licenses 20 years ago. With the absence of everything I’d become used to at home, my trip abroad showed me the other side of the world. It showed me an alternate reality I couldn’t have imagined.
Union Square, San Francisco
As a bonus, the trip included my first solo adventure. For the first time in my life, I chose my destinations, decoded city codes, made purchases, and arranged accommodation. The experience revealed a side of myself I didn’t know I had. I learnt to plan, to organise, and to communicate with other people to get my work done. It taught me survival skills and negotiating skills.
Not only did I discover my own boldness, but I also discovered I could socialise without feeling bad about myself. Having always shunned away from social interactions, I saw myself initiating conversations, instead—with Uber drivers, restaurant waiters, event caterers, hotel receptionists, kitchen staff, fellow backpackers, and even an 88 year old grandma who headed to the Portland Museum sporting rain boots, a raincoat, and a confident stride. I laughed more than I had all year because intense pleasure seeped through my veins cleansing my soul.
Portland light rail system
Madison Street, Oakland
Pioneer Square, Seattle
As much as the grandeur of the US of A thrilled me, its subtle faults also stood out. Homelessness, unemployment, drugs, gun violence, homophobia, Islamophobia, inequality, and the over-indulgence of food, all shoved their ugly faces at me. Despite the wonderful people I met, despite the glorious sunrises and sunsets, and regardless of the advanced public transportation systems, I realised that first world countries have their pitfalls too. No matter which part of the earth humans live in, humans will be humans nevertheless. We do good to each other, but we also harm each other. For every thankful moment, there was also a moment I could’ve lived without.
Webster Street, Oakland
Fruitvale Bart Station, California
My greatest takeaway from 2017 is the lessons from my trip. Most of the world’s population looks up to the US and to other western countries, expecting them to guide from experience. However, during my time there, I figured the US is as clueless as the rest of the world. Sure, they have nice cars, bigger roads, more money, and less population but when it comes to everyday life matters like equal pay, gender biases, and tipping at restaurants, the first world isn’t too far ahead of third world countries. Yes, the US is a wonderful country, the people of the west are kind and welcoming. Their embrace is warm, their laughter is contagious, and their thoughts are genuine. But even there, unhappiness and dissatisfaction prevails. Alas, no place is perfect.
And with that realisation I headed back home, knowing that the best way to live is to make yourself happy in spite of your physical surroundings. It’s not easy. But hey, if a place gets too dull, you can always get away. One solo trip is all you need to catch the bug forever.
The Chaos Within 