Why Are You Traveling?

Everyone I meet asks me the three same questions:

• Where are you from?
• How old are you?
• Why are you traveling?

While the first two answers are pretty simple (I tell people I’m from Chicago, for the record), I struggle to summarize the third in a way that doesn’t make me seem unimaginative or cliché. “To see the world” isn’t a good answer. Neither is “To learn Spanish.” To be honest, I don’t think I completely understood where I stumbled upon this insatiable appetite for travel until relatively recently. Sure, it’s fun – but it’s a hell of a lot more, too.

Guests at Twin Fin aren’t just here for surfing; hiking, scuba diving, paragliding – it’s all up for grabs. I try to tag along whenever possible. On Wednesday morning I vaulted out of my tent, grabbed my swimsuit and joined a small group on their trip to kayak with dolphins. I’ve gawked at dolphins in the zoo and spotted one once when I was surfing, but aside from that my one-on-one dolphin time was relatively minimal.

For those of you who haven’t tried it recently, kayaking isn’t that easy. I grew up on lakes and rivers so I know my way around a paddle, but for most of our guests it’s a relatively new concept. The double kayaks that we rent are comfortable, but they require a certain sort of finesse when embarking and disembarking. We were in the water for 15 seconds before someone took an unexpected swim.

Nestled comfortably in a neighboring valley, the small town of Los Christianos shrunk behind us as we haphazardly paddled towards the dolphin’s favorite breakfast spot. I was awe-struck from the moment we left the harbor. Giant cliffs streaked white with salt towered over us in a magnificent display of prehistoric landscaping. The snowcapped peaks of Teide gently reminded me of my insignificance, and my kayaking partner repeatedly reminded me to pay attention.

Once we got closer to the fish harbor, fins began to pop up all around us. I repressed the urge to shriek as over a dozen dolphins swam under our kayaks, launched themselves out of the water and eyed us curiously. Miniature dolphins (or baby dolphins, I’m not really sure) swam nestled in the fins of their keepers, and I cried. Surrounded by one of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen, I experienced a moment of passionate reverence for everything and everyone around me. It was incredible.

In part, it’s these moments that I travel for. But there’s more.

I’ve always held a great deal of respect for the ocean. It’s massive, unpredictable, and the waves can seriously crush you if you let them. My uncle took me surfing in California when I was younger and I flopped around on a few tiny waves in Vigo, but yesterday was my first time heading out with an instructor. I was terrified but determined.

As soon as I stepped into the ocean I was met with an exhausting and constant barrage of waves. Yes, I understand that this is how the ocean works, but I didn’t fully comprehend it until I was neck-deep and sputtering for air. I swore and flailed my arms into the chop until one of our instructors yelled “Turn around!” and I was eaten by a wave.

To my pleasant surprise, I’m actually pretty good at surfing. Maybe it’s all of the yoga and snowboarding, but I spent a fair chunk of time standing up and pretending like I knew what I was doing. I felt comfortable enough, in fact, that at one point I decided I was going to swim a bit farther out and tackle some of the larger surf. I sat on my board, waiting excitedly for my wave until I saw what appeared to be something that I should try and jump on. Paddling inland with all of my might, I glanced back to see a massive wall of water barreling towards on me. I didn’t have time to turn around and duck under it, so I had no choice but to continue paddling and prepare for impact.

The beast let out one last roar behind me before engulfing my board and hoisting me into the sky. I was, miraculously, standing atop the wave and let out a victorious shriek before realizing that I had to somehow make my way from the crest of the 5-foot swell to the base below. I was catapulted downward and for a brief moment found my footing before entering a 10-second rinse cycle and swallowing a gallon of water. When I finally surfaced I felt an unstoppable sense of euphoria and accomplishment that resulted in hysterical laughter and a desire to spend the rest of my days perched on a surfboard, waiting for my next adventure.

And who’s to say that I can’t?

The team at Twin Fin is remarkably international. We are all from different countries, and we all share a love for living outside of our comfort zone. Our driver, Mauro, is from Italy. Mauro swears constantly, gestures a lot with his hands and doesn’t smile when he’s happy. Our masseuse, Sasha, is from Russia. She makes everything sound sexy and sashays when she walks. Listening to them interact is one of the most enchanting things I’ve ever witnessed.

The other day I sat in the car while Sasha attempted to give Mauro directions. She wasn’t sure where she was going, and cooed, “Okay, Mauro. Eet’s okay. Don’t vwoory. Just turn right.” Mauro honked his horn and threatened to drop her off on the side of the road. I suppressed my laughter as they continued to bicker and we drove in circles, sweating, because the van windows won’t roll down.

I revel in these little moments. When three people from entirely different places, cultures and languages are crammed into one space, our glaring differences become similarities. We were all just a bunch of lost idiots that refused to ask for directions.

I’m traveling so I can experience the culmination of all of the feelings expressed in this blog post. Does that make sense?

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