What Is the True Meaning of Travel?

2018.06.15

Dear Diary, While people were watching the World Cup match between Portugal and Spain, I was on my way to Zagreb, Croatia. Crossing the Croatian border once again, on my way back to Dubrovnik, I realized that my SIM card was truly broken. The top left corner of the screen was unresponsive, completely empty.

It dawned on me that I hadn't purchased anything, not even a flight ticket from Croatia. I couldn't receive any text message verifications for online transactions without internet access. My money was running out, and I had only been on the road for a week.

The bus station was run-down and dilapidated. Compared to Western Europe, resources were unevenly distributed in Eastern Europe. Perhaps the country was still reeling from its tumultuous history. Sitting alone on the platform, I must admit I felt truly uneasy. I looked around the bustling bus station, with ticket sellers wearing almost expressionless faces, and a driver smoking impatiently nearby.

There were numerous travelers, unfamiliar foreign faces. Croatia was not a preferred destination for Asian tourists, and after traveling alone for a while, I had become accustomed to being surrounded by white people everywhere I went. Occasionally, encountering one or two East Asian faces was considered lucky.

My mind was anxiously muddled, like a pot of overcooked porridge. It was the first time I felt so helpless. I couldn't provide answers to where I would stay the day after tomorrow, where I would fly next week, or even the basic check-in time for tonight's hostel.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly noticed a peculiar-looking public telephone booth next to the ticket counter. It felt as if Mazu (a Taoist sea goddess) had suddenly manifested herself. I clearly saw colorful icons next to the words: 'Wifi, Every 15 min, 40kn.'

Note: kn is the currency of Croatia, and the exchange rate is 1€ = 8kn

I never thought that 15 minutes of internet access could be so precious. Without hesitation, I took out all the remaining coins from my pocket, hands trembling like a Parkinson's patient. I urged myself to 'Take a deep breath! Stay calm to deal with the situation.' Simultaneously, I quickly contacted a friend living in Zagreb. However, when the call connected, I couldn't even speak English properly. While waiting, I wrote down 'I want to go home' more than a hundred times in my notebook. I missed my friend in Valencia, I missed Santiago (a guy I was dating back then), and I felt like crying.

Then, snap! The internet was gone.

-

The bus sped along the highway and finally came to a stop in the outskirts, about two hours away. Passengers sat or slept, while those getting off went to use the restroom or smoke. It was a scorching summer dawn in Croatia, and I hurriedly went to talk to the driver.

'Hey! I heard the lady say that the bus has wifi.'

I vividly remembered the temporary hostel where I booked this bus company. It clearly boasted about offering free onboard wifi. I wanted to figure out why my phone had absolutely no signal. But now, sitting halfway through the journey, it suddenly struck me! I knew it! There's always a way!

However, the driver casually brushed me off with a lousy excuse. He told me he was the boss and that the road conditions were too rough, blah blah blah (mixed with Croatian words I couldn't understand). Needless to say, I was displeased. He had severed my only precious connection to loved ones thousands of miles away—the internet.

I tried to be friendly and explained that I really needed to let my friends know I was safe. There were no power outlets or toilets on the entire bus, and he simply shrugged and said they wouldn't be turned on. Dejectedly, I returned to my seat. Since it was a night bus, looking out the window revealed complete darkness. The more I thought, the more aggrieved I felt, and I couldn't help but burst into tears.

At that moment, I wished my body was empty, with my soul floating weightlessly and devoid of any state. I began to regret not planning anything, regretted the impromptu decision to go to Montenegro, regretted all the choices I made. Being forced to transfer at midnight, the new bus had broken air conditioning, and the moment I boarded, I was hit with unbearable heat and terrible air quality. In my mind, I contemplated tens of thousands of times that this was by far the worst experience in three years of traveling. I desperately wished to fly back to Spain straight after Zagreb, abandoning Berlin and the previously agreed-upon itinerary. No matter how expensive the plane ticket, I wanted to go back. This wasn't even considered travel. If it was so painful, why bother traveling? But what is the true nature of travel?

Crossing the border was particularly agonizing. In these two days, I collected a total of six entry and exit stamps, fearing that the customs officers might reject my entry with 'Republic of China' on my passport. In my mind, I felt sorrowful. Why should I, as a Taiwanese, have to worry about such things?

What Is the True Nature of Travel?

It reveals one's true self, showing the most primitive and unbearable aspects, the darkest parts we are reluctant to face. That is my answer—anxiety, unease, and an overwhelmed mind seeking solace.

Finally, I fell asleep two hours before reaching the capital. I dreamt of my grandmother whom I hadn't seen in a long time, hugging me tightly and saying she missed me, her eyes filled with tears.

The morning light couldn't wait any longer and seeped through the cracks of the dark night. When I woke up, my eye mask was damp.

The day had finally dawned.

Upon arriving at the bus station in Zagreb, I exchanged 10kn for a cup of espresso, which granted me access to power outlets and wifi.

Everything was safe. Writing these words so as not to forget.