My mother and I have different ideas about the perfect holiday so when I told her yesterday that I am taking some time off uni to save money and then travel the world she was openly worried about me. She understood my reasons for going and was supportive of the trip, however she wasn’t exactly thrilled about my idea of traveling largely alone. In fact, she made me promise not to go it on my own.
Now I am a smart girl. I wouldn’t walk down the backstreets of Mumbai on my own but equally, I wouldn’t do that in my own city. It’s simply not safe.
The worry I saw on my Mother’s face I have also seen on the face of friends, colleagues and family. I’ve been told I’ll be raped, have all my bags stolen, I’ll catch a bus I think is taking me to ‘A’ but instead take me to ‘E’ and someone will plant drugs on me in Asia and I’ll be the next Schapelle Corby.
I can completely understand why my parents are worried. In their eyes I am running halfway across the world to a place where I don’t speak the language, I don’t know anybody and I have no idea what I will do once I get there. When my mother was my age she wanted to return to England and see the place she had grown up in, spend a few weeks in london, visit Paris and fly home to Australia. As luck would have it she never had the chance and even now my parents have no desire to visit Asia, think Africa is a death trap but will one day visit Europe and the UK and maybe America. This doesn’t mean they are less people, I don’t judge them because they have lived a different life to the one I want. I have grown up in a different time. I don’t see anything as impossible because someone has already done it. But to my parents, my dreams are crazy.
I respect the worries my parents have for me. Yes, some of the places I want to visit aren’t exactly the safest in the world but I am smart. The risks I’ll take will be calculated and I’ll follow my instincts, but I won’t let fear stop me from following a dream.