Taylor's Travels: Lessons from a Travel Buddy

They say (or at least my mom says) that if you really want to get to know your friends, you should travel with them. You will learn things you loathe and love about them, and it will teach you in a few weeks what a few years of local friendship won’t reveal. I just spent the last three weeks with Trevor Nelson, a relatively new friend from Santa Cruz, and learned heaps of useless and amusing stuff about him. Or so I thought.

1. He eats terribly slowly. I’d be finishing up my couscous and waving the waiter down to order the obligatory post-meal mint tea, only to realize he’d yet to move on from his salad. I couldn’t figure out where I was losing him. During following meals I slowed down and tried to match his pace, quickly learning where he was lagging (or I was speeding)—chewing. Trevor chews his food like he’s searching for a tiny piece of glass in it. I tried it. I took a bite at the same time as him and chewed. Chewed. And chewed. When the consistency of the food made Gerber’s seem like an overcooked rib-eye, I swallowed. Trevor continued for another ten seconds or so.

Another factor, though this is like faulting a headwind for slowing down a car with a flat tire, is his meticulous condiment preparation. While I would stuff my face (M.H.) with fries drenched in ketchup, he would take each one and rotate 3/5 of it in ketchup before indulging.

I was unconsciously trying to be the master of efficiency, maximizing the amount of food consumed in the least amount of time. But Trevor’s leisurely eating style reminded me that we were having a meal, not running an assembly line. If I relaxed and enjoyed the food, atmosphere, and company, the meal would be more enjoyable. Not to mention my digestive track would thank me.

2. While he chews, Trevor tends to stare off into the distance, a look on his face that suggests he is thinking of ways to solve the world’s economy or musing on the meaning of life. It’s likely though, that he’s thinking about socks. I learned of this Lieutenant Dan-like obsession mid-way through the trip, when he first ran out of freshies.

“Dude, do you have any of my socks in your bag?”
“No. Why would your socks be in my bag?”
“I dunno. Maybe I’m tripping, but I thought I’d brought more and I’m out.”

I suggested he wash them, but he gave me a smug look like, “You’ve got a lot to learn, kid,” and went out for a new pair.

One to three days later (depending on the shoe-to-sandal ratio) he would do it again. He’d look at his socks in disgust, maybe attempting the awkward foot-to-nose leg lift to catch a whiff, and declare “Gonna go get socks.”

White, black, checkered, it didn’t matter as long as they were clean and soft. He’d throw the old socks out like a junkie does an empty baggie, with a disregard for the past and anticipation for the next fix. Each time he’d slip into a new pair of fake Nike socks, I became progressively envious. His socks were making him happy. Mine were not. I would struggle into my washed Costco socks, stiff from the residual detergent I’d failed to rinse out, and wonder if Trevor was onto something. Maybe happy feet make for a happy traveler?

3. Trevor is easy, and to me that’s the most important characteristic of a good travel partner. He travels with an open mind and pliable plans, and answers any “This or that?” question with, “Whatever, I’m easy.”

“You want to go to Marrakech or stay in Taghazout?”
“Whatever, I’m easy.”
“You want to eat in or out?”
“Whatever, I’m easy.”

At first it was simply refreshing and made life easier for me, I could call the shots. But after getting this response over and over, I saw the benefit really lay with him. No plan was concrete, everything was possible, and whatever happened he would be cool with it. This attitude is worth more than money or languages while traveling. The millionaire fluent in Arabic might let a Moroccan rain storm ruin his vacation. Trevor would go play in the puddles (then promptly change his socks, of course).

While I like to believe that I share these easy going tendencies, Trevor is clearly easier than me, and showed me how smooth life’s sail could be if I loosened up even more.

Trevor is back in the states now, and I will finish the trip solo. He rubbed off on me, unintentionally teaching me small life lessons during our trip, things that will make the next few months more enjoyable. In fact, as I write this, my feet rest snuggly in a fresh pair of socks that feel like down comforters on my toes.