BY DIVIA THANI DASWANI
Editor, Condé Nast Traveller India
That old lady at the airport, dressed in a sari and slippers, staring nervously at the escalator she finally, gingerly, steps onto. Remember her? How often have we all seen her, or people like her, Indians of an older generation, making their way through far-flung airports in Atlanta, Kenya, Switzerland? They always seem to carry files of papers along with their passports; they’re always asking airport officials about boarding times; they’re always greeted at Arrivals by a crowd that includes excited five-year olds.
I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t rolled my eyes and rushed past them at least a few times. But not anymore. In the past five years since we launched Condé Nast Traveller India, I’ve become a champion of travel—all kinds of travel. Climb a mountain, lose yourself in museums, spot tigers, and learn to cook, dance, volunteer, ride a train, fly a plane, connect with nature, disconnect from work — do whatever you like.
My holidays are dotted with infinity pools and contemporary art, but I fully appreciate those who’d rather pitch a tent under a starlit sky, bathed in insect repellent. Travel is truly bespoke. No two people who make the same journey return with the same life experience.
The more we travel, though, the more it takes to impress us. We turn up our noses at the Eiffel Tower and Empire State Building. We seek the exotic. We want fresh truffles and First Class tickets. Because my job is to know high-end travel, I’ve occasionally caught myself grumbling about unsatisfactory in-flight entertainment or a heat wave or housekeeping that doesn’t fold your towels properly. And then, I have to tell myself: remember the old woman on the escalator.
Remember what she signifies: that to travel, to move somewhere physically, is to cross borders and confront newness in a million different ways, some of which will scare us. Those of us who take our air miles for granted tend to forget that. We get caught up in the tiny details and forget how amazing, how powerful, how utterly miraculous it is that we have the opportunity to experience a different world each time we set out. That old woman is doing just that—throwing herself into the unknown, dealing step-by- step with all it brings, each little feat making her stronger, prouder, more comfortable. I recall my own escalator equivalents: ordering dinner in terrible French, mastering the tube in London, wandering through Shanghai in darkness, walking barefoot across Zambia’s gushing Victoria Falls, adopting an American accent while in college, trekking in Tasmania in my Ferragamo heels (travel can make you intelligent—but also idiotic).
One woman’s escalator is another woman’s solo road trip is another woman’s afternoon in a café with a book. Whether your travel involves climbing mountains or sipping wine, it is still travel. It is still the chance to break out of your routine, to change your life, to discover the world—and yourself.
I no longer rush past the old woman afraid to place her foot on the escalator in the cold airport. I look at her and I admire her tenacity, I envy all the newness she’s about to encounter. I think of all the journeys I’ve made in my life, and wonder what sort of escalators await me. I stay until she makes that little leap, until her mouth lifts into a relieved smile as she glides through the airport, undoubtedly pleased she managed, ready to take on the next challenge. I think of how little in flight entertainment or folded towels matter.
At Condé Nast Traveller India, we have created the theme ‘Journeys of a Lifetime’ for our fifth Anniversary Special issue - each story designed to strip away those pesky nitty-gritty details and go back to the heart and soul of why we travel—to feel alive, to delve into history, to rediscover our roots, to ignite our passions, to see for ourselves the truth of the matter.
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