The Lemon Life | online magazine offering a fresh perspective on post-grad life.

Traveling as a means to avoiding reality

Words By: Ashley Laframboise 

Image By: Ashley Barron

Ahh, graduation— I can still remember mine with such fondness. I was confident about the future and had no idea what would happen next.  But somehow I knew, with the conviction characteristic of an idealistic twenty-two year old with an Arts degree, that no matter what life threw at me, or whatever I threw at it for that matter, I’d be fine. Actually, this is a complete load of crap. Not only was it barely a year ago, but I also didn’t even make it to my graduation, and while other kids were receiving their degrees, smiling and suffocating in those god-awful gowns for mom and dad’s camera, I’m proud that I was probably surfing somewhere in the Pacific ocean—or perhaps just as likely, though much less romantically, running my ass off in a dingy diner serving a group of bearded middle-aged men grilled cheese sandwiches and fending off unoriginal sexual advances.

As soon as I finished that last exam all I really wanted to do was move as far away from the city as possible and start living my life the way I wanted to. My parents were not happy about this (in fact, neither were their neighbours, or a large portion of my extended family for that matter). Like many people of their generation, they think that young people, after completing their undergrads, should go straight to work, get a job in their field and start making money. Then they should get a car, a house, get married and have children.  Do not pass go.  Do not collect $200.

I however, like many of my generation, am revolted by the thought of this, and used to repeat to my parents, in vain, my reasons for why I did not want to do what they thought I ought to do. They tried to warn me about this “reality” I’d have to face sooner or later (the one with the car and the house and the career and the husband and the kids).  That my dreams of traveling and living out of my backpack would soon come to an end and I’d have to “wake up” some day.  I would have to join the masses and get a nine-to-five job. But I wasn’t fazed by any of this; I was on top of the world! They had no idea what it felt like to have completed an English degree, and after four years, still want to write and see the world, and still not want to become a teacher.

Here’s what I found out while traveling and living out of that backpack.  Hospitality jobs are great-for the free food.  And any time you work at a hotel, you’re sure to get free stuff, too—like coffee and towels, and those cute little soaps and shampoos they put in the rooms. It’s really the only way to go if you’re going to be working for peanut butter samples.

But aside from the great free stuff, whenever you work jobs like these you get some great perspective: you see tourists who come for a week or two—people who have important “real” jobs back home (people who actually put their degrees to good use) who come to you to get away from the grind and enjoy this beautiful place that you consider home, if only for a short while. They leave and they tell you, “We had so much fun,” and “It’s back to reality tomorrow,” and you can just see that newfound glow on their faces fading out, the dutiful shadow of drudgery settling in—and all I want to reply is, “Why do it then?” And if it’s back to reality tomorrow, what exactly have you been doing here? Has this week not been real?

My plans for the foreseeable future include traveling and learning from experiences rather than from books and avoiding this reality I keep hearing about. But more importantly, actively searching for my own.

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