The Gift of Travel — tamara white

I’m not sure when I first learned of Machu Picchu. Yet it landed on my mental bucket list somewhere after Australia’s Opera House. Growing up in a small Northern California town, travel was defined as a trip to a nearby city for orthodontal appointments and yearly school clothes shopping. My first plane ride was to White Fish, Montana at age sixteen to visit family friends. I relied on the National Geographic World magazine for kids to expose me to the greater world, always in awe of the cultures that were so different than my own. Despite being born, raised, and living in the same small community for seventeen years, with no safety net for gap years and exploration, there is something instinctual in my desire to experience life beyond the borders of America “the great.”

I recently listened to Maggie Smith’s book You Could Make This Place Beautiful. She discusses the concept of Russian dolls and that perhaps we all carry shells of our past and future selves. Each shell informing the next. I like the idea of being born as this large, bold being and transversing to another inner layer throughout life as we home in on our true selves, albeit a bit worn and scratched, yet carrying a beautiful patina of the journey. The older I get, the more I believe I am becoming the person I was always intended to be, and travel reminds me of this.

I never felt entirely at home in the homogenous environment where I began, and believe if my circumstances were different, I would have taken a gap year to travel abroad. I may have earned my Ph.D. many years sooner or chosen a different path in partners or careers. Or perhaps I would have avoided the hardships I faced far too many times. And yet, if that smoothly paved road had been presented to me, I would not be who I am today. I am blessed with an understanding that many feel grateful to have avoided.

I have told my children that people with perfect lives are boring. Possibly. Yet, what I know for sure is that hardships, challenges, and having the stamina to persevere builds character. It produces an appreciation and zest for life that often gets overlooked. Seeking out and soaking up other cultures, languages, and histories provides a viewpoint that gets diminished with closed borders and closed minds.

Peru provided me the gift of further expanding my mind, taught me about the incredible history of the Incas, and allowed me to spend time with the Misminay community. These are simple people who live a modest life yet are the kindest and most joyful people I have ever met. This community lives by a one-for-all and all-for-one philosophy. No one within their community is hungry or homeless. Crops are grown to feed all. Everyone contributes to labor and construction when a person needs a home. The recipient repays the deed by working in the fields, assisting with children, or weaving textiles that are sold to benefit the entire community.

The final summit. The Sun Gate above Machu Picchu.

Imagine if such a philosophy existed in the rich world of America, plagued by homelessness, hunger, and inequity. If we came together to build and construct homes for those without. If food and supplies were shared. If our politicians focused on those in need instead of chess plays for re-election. For a country with so much to be grateful for, there appears to be so much division, complaint, and entitlement.

Hiking Machu Picchu was one of the most physically challenging experiences I’ve endured due to my immense fear of heights. It was harder than I expected, and scarier than I imagined. I had to seek assistance in the form of my guide’s hand through stretches of the seven miles, yet the summit provided the most stunningly beautiful view. I felt euphoric to see the image that had elicited the bucket list placement.

My Machu Picchu trek mirrors the difficult journey of life: challenging, scary, and frequently requiring the help of others, yet I have been gifted with three beautiful children, a sense of self, and gratitude for overcoming the gut-wrenching spans that made me want to crawl on my hands and knees to get through. But in the end, the view could not be any less stunning.