One of the most repeated sayings in the English language is, “You can lead a horse to water, but you cannot make it drink.” Most people use it when talking about giving advice to others. One can provide information, opportunities, or guidance, but one cannot force someone else to embrace it the same way.
The older I get, the more I realize the opposite is also true. I cannot make someone value the things that I value, in the same way I value them.
For years, I have worked to explain to others very close to me why I prefer to travel the way I do. This is not because I think my way is better than theirs. It is also not because I think museums or historical landmarks are often a waste of time… which most of them are! This is simply because I keep assuming that if I explain it clearly enough or often enough, they will finally understand why I get so excited about the trips I plan and take. Then I remember the horse and the water.
The Mona Lisa Problem
Let me confess something that probably horrifies traditional travelers. I could not care less about seeing the Mona Lisa or Whistler’s Mother in person. I know… I know… I know… They are both one of the most “famous” paintings in the world. Annually, millions of people mark seeing them in person off of their bucket lists.
Some people travel halfway around the world just to stand in a crowded room and to take a look at a painting that they cannot get within a comfortable distance of. Meanwhile, I can open YouTube and watch dozens of videos featuring the art in higher resolution than my eyes would likely experience in person. I can zoom in, I can rewind, and I can watch experts explain the history without fighting crowds or paying admission.
Seeing a painting itself is not what excites me about hours of plane travel, I want the experience surrounding it.
- The people
- The rides
- The festivals
- The food
I seek the unexpected moments that happen before and after the one moment that I get to glance at something that others gawk at. Those are the things I remember as I seek to experiences, not glances…
- Some travelers collect landmarks
- Some collect photographs
- Some collect videos
- Some collect souvenirs
- I collect experiences
- I document experiences
If I visit a city and spend the evening at a concert with forty thousand people singing the same song, that memory gets written into my sole and sticks with me. If I spend a day riding roller coasters with a friend, I remember the laughter far longer than I remember which city I was actually in. If I stumble into a local festival, sample some new food, engulf myself in the live music, and get swept into whatever unique thing that community is celebrating, that becomes part of the story of my life.
Those moments cannot be fully replicated.
A photo captures a fraction of a second.
A video captures a sequence seconds.
But an experience captures something much larger!
Millions of Moments
One realization I have had over the years is that the experiences I treasure are not actually singular moments. These experiences are millions of moments.
A roller coaster is not just the first drop.
- It is standing in line talking with friends.
- It is hearing the chain lift engage.
- It is the anticipation while being buckled in.
- It is the click of the anti-rollback mechanism going up the lift hill.
- It is the hum and roar of the LSM launch.
- It is the scream from the seat behind you.
- It is the conversation afterward about which ride was better.
- It is the memory years later when someone brings it up.
A concert is not just one song.
- It is somehow actually getting a ticket, 12 months in advance.
- It is selecting the outfit perfect of saying that I am here.
- It is arriving early to the crowds in the parking lot.
- It is the queue awaiting each of our moments to get through security.
- It is when the lights go-down and the curtain drops.
- It is hearing a favorite song live for the first time.
- It is turning on your phone’s flash light or lighting your lighter during a ballad.
- It is singing out-loud poorly along with thousands of strangers.
- It is the anticipation of the encore that you know is coming.
- It is the walk back to the car afterward.
- It is the ringing of your ears on the way home.
A festival is not one attraction.
It is dozens or hundreds of tiny interactions stacked together into something impossible to recreate. Those experiences are not moments in time but are a collections of moments. That is why they live differently in my memory.
Being a Tourist Versus a Participant
When I think about travel, I often see two different approaches and remember, neither of these are wrong.
One approach is to observe and view: The observer wants to see the landmarks, sites, and noted locations.
The other is to participate and contribute: The participant wants to become part of the environment, even if only in a transient manner.
I usually fall into the second group as a participant (or contributor) as I would rather ride the roller coaster than photograph the front gate. I would rather attend the festival than watch a documentary about it. I would rather hear and feel the band live than stream the concert recording later.
- My goal is not to witness life from the upper deck.
- My goal is to experience it from the mosh pit.
The Lesson I Finally Learned
For a long time, I kept trying to convince other people to see travel and the world the way I do. I would explain why I prioritized experiences over attractions. I would explain why I planned trips around events instead of landmarks. I would explain why I was more interested in what people do somewhere than what people look at somewhere.
Sometimes people understood my message and sometimes they didn’t. Eventually I realized that was perfectly okay and not to fight the uphill battle. Just like nobody can force the horse to drink when they get to the water, I cannot force someone to value experiences the way I do. In fairness, they cannot force me to value travel their way either.
The person who spends an hour admiring a piece of old art may get the same fulfillment that I get from a concert or festival. Their water is simply different than mine at its core.
Finding Your Own Water
The older I get, the less interested I am in determining which approach is correct. I am more interested in helping people discover what actually excites them and ensuring that I also experience what excites me.
If standing in front of the Mona Lisa changes your life, that’s fantastic for you… I am glad you got to do it!
If riding the tallest roller coaster at your favorite park changes your life, fantastic… Keep doing it!
If a music festival, local food market, sporting event, hiking trail, comedy show, or random conversation with a stranger becomes the highlight of your trip, fantastic. I want you to get more of that!
The destination is often just the container of the experience for me. The experience is the content of said container. As for me, I know where my water is.
- It is during the concert.
- It is at the festivals.
- It is on the roller coasters.
- It is within the shared adventures and time that I get to spend with friends, family, and framily.
- It is inside those millions of tiny moments that cannot be downloaded, streamed, replayed, or experienced through a secondhand or regurgitated manner.
While I may never convince everyone else to drink from the same fountain that I do, I have finally learned that I do not need to. I just need to keep enjoying the water that was meant for me.