Are you tired, retired, or too good to travel?
The Terrible Twos of Travel, I am Too Old
At age 57, from the USA, I have become body-pain-aware, and ask myself,
“Am I too old for Travel?”
My most recent Visa Photo Andy Graham age 57.
At age two, we learn to say “no” to mom, after age 40 we learn to say “no” to the discomfort of world travel, or age two for many.
We are not too old to travel, we become age two again, and refuse to listen, we say we are too good.
I deboarded the train in Kuala Lumpur and walked two miles with my 50 pounds, 23 kilos of backpack gear on my back. After findng the hotel, my clothes were drench with sweat, my pants were pulling at my legs, and the shirt was hanging sticky to the side. When I look down at my two backpacks after checking in the Hotel, I looked a bell to make someone hop, I needed a porter, a strong young man to carry my bag to the room. None was to be found, so I took one at a time to the room, I was lucky, the room was on the first floor.
Travel is about being willing to do, what we want to avoid.
There was a worst time in Ghana, where I walked with 80-100 pounds of gear for a few miles. Trust this travel knowledge, one never knows before entering a city that they will required to walk 3-5 miles with 80 pounds of weight on your back.
This is the reason why 95 percent of luggage has wheels, or more, and backpacking is for young people.
An Israel girl entered my room in Hampi, India and said,
“You have cooking gear, you are true backpacker.”
“No, I like to eat, and India people make me nervous.”
I carry enough gear to live in any conditions, I can camp outside, and cook my own food if needed. Here in West Africa, I cook about 50 percent of my food in my room, and when I enter a room, I buy scouring powdre, a brush, chlorine and laundry soap, to clean the Hotel room.
I am Rich, I don’t Need to Live this Way.
Ok, I got in touch with my inner child, that selfish brat who learns to say “NO” loudly, indignantly at age two.
The terrible Two’s the terrible age of 40, some people give up at 40, others are never players.
Yes, that is it, after age 40, as our body start to go downhill, as all our manhood starts to leave, we slowly work backwards until we are age two again, we need to be on bottom, not on top.
We all learn to say no, I will not do that, I am a big child, I do not have to do that, I am two now. And, we scream at our mothers, the porter, the airline steward, our friends, saying,
“I am big now, or I made enough money to avoid getting down and dirty.”
I cannot believe how many people are truly angry at TSA, the security people in Aiports, this is being an over 40 year old “The Terrible Two‘s of Travel.”
Ok, what lead me to write this post?
I broke my left leg, my femur in 4 places in a almost killed me, intensive care for 10 motorcycle accident at age 23. That left leg is a gimp, a wimp, it is just not up to snuff, it is lazy.
Well, I am left legged, and right handed, I high jumped from the left leg, I tried to stuff the basketball using the left leg. I still like that leg, it is my leg of choice, it has my balance, it is my dream leg, whtat was wounded in action.
I was in my Hotel room a week ago, I grabbed some clean shorts from the table, I picked up my right leg, while standing on my left.
I almost fell down, so I thought to myself.
“I need to sit down to do this.”
After age 40 people believe they deserve to sit down, they worked all their lives, they deserve what they deserve.
Well, I deserve to live a long life, and I am not going to take the rest of my life sitting down to put my shorts, and underwear.
Life is a Trek, a Hike in the Jungle
If you asked me to go Trekking, I would reply,
“Are you F$$KING nuts?”
I do not Trek, and for damn sure, I am not some stupid city kid who pays to walk in the woods, the wood are free, open range.
Walking off the path is free, do not let the silly boys drag you down the wrong path, so they can make money.
As a farm boy in Indiana, Midwest USA, I worked for Buster Spade, a large farmer in Orland, Indiana. I was blessed to accidently be a the lucky sperm that got to go work for this man, one of my mentors in life. Like my father, who also worked for Buster, I work in the fields, I was one of Busters hired hands, I did this for about 7-8 summers of my life, even during years in University.
I remember with anger now, and wisdom, that Bob Magley, Jr. a boy from Wabash, Indiana who did way to Qualudes, who I thought was a friend living on Crone Hall, in McNutt Quad of Indiana, University saying,
“Do you really go pick stones out of fields as a farmer?”
I just replied,
“Of course, or the stone would break the equipment, a large stone could enter the combine and cost 1000’s of dollars.”
On hindsight, I realize he was mean spirited, and cruel, he always said these comments in front of others, he is probably still an abusive man, people do not change.
But, as a youth, at age 20, at Indiana University, I was naïve, and good natured, I did not believe in cruel people. I did not believe in evil, it just was not possible for me to be mean, for no reason.
At age 57, I am 100 percent sure, that any form of power changes a good person, into something wrong. Policeman often become abusive with power, politicians become full of themselves.
Nothing is more dangerous on planet earth than when a policeman calls you to him, never look at police abroad. Fortunately, they are way to lazy to come running for you.
Well, I look up to myself today, I was never too good to pick stones out of fields, where corn, wheat, and food grown to feed the world was to grow. It was a job that needed done, I just did what neeed done, no more, no less. I enjoyed immensely farming, it is work that cannot be denied, it work that is needed, it is not frivolous.
I am going to Nigeria, Africa
Right now, here in Togo, West Africa, I made the decision to travel to Nigeria, and beyond to Cameroon, Gabon, etc. I admit, it is a backpack, I do not want to pick up, I have been looking at it for a few years, but this country is between me, a Cameroon, the place I dream about going.
I can learn to sit down to put on my shorts.
I can pay to fly from Togo to Cameroon.
I do not have the luxury, thank God of thinking that way, it was not me at age 20, it is not me at age 57.
I remember walking into the lumber yard in Orland,
The man says,
“You are one of Buster men.”
“Yes, and so was my pop.”
I was only age 16 when that man said that, it was the rites of passage, the road, my road.
We can all sit around complaing about the really stupid TSA, and how they x-ray us at the Airport.
For me, I am worried about my trip to Nigeria, this journey started with me moving to Mexico, and not I am ready to enter Nigeria, and hopefuly one day to cross the DRC, Democratic Republic of the Congo.
We are never too old to explore our world, but many people are too good to pick up the big stones of life and must sit down to put on their shorts.
Sometimes, when I am on my knees, washing my clothes in the shower, I use a sock to scrub the pockets of my shorts, and grumble to myself. I do not deserve this, but I know that cleaning my own clothes I is a spiritual moment, and I am grateful.
It lifts my spirits, takes me high, when I lift my 50 pounds of backpack, and climb into the bus.
I am not two, I am not too old to travel. I want to move you, a job much more difficult than picking stones.