Natural Risk-Takers

Sitting in the Porter lounge at Billy Bishop airport in Toronto, my flight to Boston cancelled and rescheduled 5 hours later, I pull up some readings for my online masters program. This week we are discussing how to teach listening:

"Those who are cautious need to be encouraged to take risks and to make inferences based upon the words they have managed to identify. Natural risk-takers need to be encouraged to check their guesses against new evidence as it comes in from the speaker. And all learners need to be shown that making guesses is not a sign of failure: it is a normal part of listening to a foreign language"

('The Changing Face of Listening', by John Field, English Teaching Professional 6 1998)

"Natural risk-takers". The idea that some of us are naturally predisposed to a life of risk. 

As a traveller, I often reflect on situations where I ought to have made different choices than I did. Should I have hopped in that car with the man who worked in the Underground in London? Should I have drank that mysterious cloudy alcohol in Turkey, given to me by a person whose name I didn't know? Should I have slept alone in all those airports? Should I have had that Chai tea with that stranger in Kuala Lumpur? Should I have pulled out my camera and taken that photo of the 'no photo' sign at the border? Should I have gotten on that bus without checking that it was the right one, not knowing it would drop me off in the dark next to a garbage dump at midnight? Should I have made those choices? Should I have taken those risks?

Should you really have trusted me with all your worldly belongings?

Maybe not. 

Maybe I shouldn't have gotten drunk with my roommate and spontaneously booked that one-way ticket to London back in 2006. Maybe I shouldn't have gone to Korea without knowing anything more than the voice of my boss. Maybe I shouldn't have held my camera in one hand while trying not to fall on that slippery border crossing above a rushing river. Maybe I shouldn't have had that lemon shake that tasted a bit funny. Maybe I shouldn't have sat on the stairs of that train carriage. 

Maybe I shouldn't have talked to that guy at that party. 

But, what if?

If I hadn't booked that ticket to London, I wouldn't have travelled those 22 countries in 4 months, and I wouldn't have learned that I could travel alone. If I hadn't gone to Korea, I wouldn't have spent 4 of the happiest years of my twenties making friendships and memories that will last my lifetime. If I hadn't filmed that border crossing, I wouldn't remember how unsafe that bridge actually was. If I hadn't had that lemon shake I wouldn't have gotten traveller's diarrhea... okay so that was one risk I shouldn't have taken, but it was so thirst-quenching! If I hadn't sat on the stairs of the train carriage I wouldn't have dropped my purse and leaped off the moving train (James Bond style) to get it, but I also wouldn't have learned that a train in Burma will stop for that one idiot traveller who jumped off.

If I hadn't talked to that guy at that party, I wouldn't be sitting in this airport lounge now, with him at my side, waiting to board this plane to Boston. 

In language learning, in travel, in life, we take risks every day. We have heard that getting in a car presents more risk than boarding a plane.

I'm not encouraging wannabe travellers to adopt a risk-taking attitude, or that natural risk-takers make better travellers. No, not at all. What I am saying is that our lives are made up of the sum of our experiences. And the experiences that we have are, sometimes, the direct result of the choices we make. Risk-taker or cautious, we are all making choices every day that shape the direction of our lives.

While we're getting deep, I'll also share that I suffer from overconfidence, a trait that can make or break a person, almost literally. Over the years, and throughout my travels, I have tried to keep my confidence in check, and to recognize when a particular situation merits more logical reflection than an impulsive choice. As I inch closer and closer to my thirtieth birthday, (pause for reaction), I am learning to balance my personal, educational, and professional life with my natural tendency to throw all my eggs in one basket, or (more literally) throw all my savings into a 6-month trip through South America. Trying to see the whole damn world while keeping my head on straight.

It is gonna take more than a few risks to get me there, or perhaps it will just take a few more cancelled flights.

Tasting freedom

 Frame Lake. Yellowknife, Canada

I just submitted my last project of the semester. Just, right now. After being under the constant looming pressure of studying online since March, I'm finally finished the semester. If you're wondering what it feels like to study a Masters online, allow me to explain.

 Enjoying sister and doggie time in Yellowknife

Every day, when I wake up, I think about what readings I haven't completed yet. Then, while I'm at work, I make a mental plan about going straight home after work to do my readings and get a head start on the assignment that is due next week. Inevitably, a grandmother or a friend or someone in between sends a message and I don't end up going home right after work. When I do get home, at last, I make something to eat and turn on my computer to check what pages the readings were. After logging in, I realize I actually do have something due sooner than I think, that I just didn't click in the right folder and didn't see it until right then. I get a little stressed. I then start working on the other assignment which is due more immediately, and don't end up getting a head start on my readings after all. The next day, I repeat this same routine with a spontaneous dinner with friends and a skype date, so again the readings are put on the back burner. I also find another random folder wherein a 3-day discussion has been taking place in my class about which I was unaware. The stress builds.

The bright night skies of the north country

Repeat this for 3 months. And add some group work, and some long, challenging readings, and a few short essays. Then you can feel the weight of the online Masters.

It ain't easy, but I'm truckin' through. Or should I say, tappin' through.

In June, I am so lucky to be attending onsite courses at the New School in Manhattan, and I will be able to study under some of my ESL idols, Jeremy Harmer included. Although the online courses are convenient and challenging, I really miss the in-class conversations and thoughts that can only be generated among a group of people all in the same room, thinking on the same topic. I miss that sense of group thought from my undergrad, and I'm so looking forward to feeling that inspiration in New York this summer.

As for now, I'm in the north country, the most northerly capital city in Canada, and current home of my sister: Yellowknife. It feels right that I'm finally feeling this long overdue freedom in such an outerworldly place. A place where the sun never sets, a place where the blue skies stretch on forever, a place where the beautiful lake is a 5-minute walk from your door.

With a population of 20,000... it sure ain't New York. But there's something here that New York doesn't have: the sanctuary of silence. And doesn't silence lead us to the deepest freedom of all - freedom from our surroundings, and the freedom to look into ourselves?

Any Road

"If you don't know where you're going, any road will take you there"

- George Harrison (from the song Any Road)

Just a day before we sail from Panama to Colombia, I can't help but feel madly excited about the upcoming continent and all the adventures we'll have. The lure of South America has always been in me; even as a little girl I dreamed of the Brazilian amazon. Now with hours until we sail, and just days until out feet find solid ground on the Cartagena beaches, I'm thrilled.

Our plans for Colombia - and the whole of South America - are pretty vague. We do have our general direction, and certain cities we won't miss. But when it comes to how long in what place, we are intentionally keeping our plans open.

The road is nothing if not unpredictable. Embracing the unpredictability of the road means being open to all people, and all places. It's easy to end up in a place you never intended to visit, simply upon the recommendation of another traveler. I learned that first-hand when in France in 2006, and I ended up unexpectedly doing the first three days of the pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela upon the recommendation of a friendly girl I met in the hostel. Destinations become fluid and so do the reasons for visiting.

The photo above is from Cahuita on the east coast of Costa Rica, after hearing that it was "beautiful" from a girl with whom we shared a short bus ride. We hadn't even heard of the city, and within 24 hours we were there.

The joy of motion, being en route, and just simply not knowing is a big part of what makes traveling so immediate and so rewarding. You find a place to go, and then you get there.

For us, right now that place is South America.

big in granada

big skies

big avocados

big trees

big colours

big friendships

Just two days into Granada, Nicaragua with my beautiful travel partner Brenna, I can't help but feel we're at the beginning of something amazing, something life altering, something unforgettable, something big.

This morning over breakfast, we discussed an idea I've wondered about before. Whether you travel for a week or a month or a year, after the travels are over you feel a specific range of feelings when reviewing your photos.

It's easy to think of the pictures from early on in the trip as being less informed and lacking the worldly wisdom of later pictures - your clothes tidy and clean, your skin unworn and not yet blazed by the sun.

Around the middle of the trip, the photos are happy and care-free: the mark of a traveler truly amid the journey, thinking neither of the beginning or the end of the travels. For me, this is where I usually find my favourite travel photos.

When it comes to the final pictures of the trip, they seem to hold the knowledge, sadness, and already nostalgic feeling of a trip coming to an end. Sometimes you even stop taking pictures for days at a time.

Every trip has a beginning, a middle, and an end. And though this trip through central and south America together begins now for us, it's hardly the beginning of our journey as travelers together: we've traveled Romania, Bulgaria, Turkey, Japan, Thailand, Burma, and South Korea together.

And it's certainly not the end.