For months, I’ve been itching to see someplace new. Six months ago, I returned to my small southern town in the United States after spending six months in Madrid, Spain. Before this, I had barely traveled, especially not outside the country. While abroad exploring different foods, different people, and different ways, I caught a bug: the travel bug.
So, to deal with this bug, and realizing the financial impossibility of spending another six months abroad, I decided to plan a relatively small trip with my girlfriend to Nashville, Tennessee. From its endless bars flowing with music and whiskey to its replica of the Parthenon to its delicious BBQ and hot chicken, the city, or at least the idea of it, enchanted us. Neither of us had ever seen it… and, still, neither of us have. We planned the trip in early January, and, if anyone else from the American South remembers, snowstorms and an intense irregular cold also planned a trip then and there.
This would have been, and kind of still is, the first road trip for my girlfriend and me. We left at 5 a.m. and aimed to make it to our Airbnb by 3 p.m., which we would have. I drove the first few hours and let her sleep some more and then around 8:30 we switched, and I caught some more sleep myself. When I drove, darkness concealed most of the sky until almost two hours in; purple flowed to pink and pink to white, and at the heart of it, some red, all in a great semicircle. The sun started to rise and with it its array of cool warmth. With the sky, my gas station coffee and some Jack Johnson tunes kept me going for as long as I did.
Yet, the winter storm had been on my mind. Coming from even further south than Tennessee, we figured Nashville could handle a little frost and snow. We were wrong. After I woke in the passenger seat of my car, I slouched and watched the tops of trees and trucks hum past the window. Half asleep, I checked my phone to find a message from our Airbnb host. Now, I am forever grateful for this man, this messenger; however, I despised the message he bore.
The state itself was under a state of emergency. The city would shut down. Everything from bars to grocery stores would close because workers would be unable to make it to work.
We were in Georgia then, my first time in Georgia, and we pulled over to think of our options. Ultimately, we realized we shouldn’t go to Nashville and took our Airbnb refund instead, which our host so graciously offered us. We drove a few more hours, this time toward home, disappointed and defeated, until we stopped at a Chili’s (yes, such a romantic spot) and we drank beers out of dirty glasses and I had a decent chicken sandwich and she had a burger and then we were on our way again.
Stopping at a nature trail neither of us had been to, we finally started to have a good time. Walking slowly along the boardwalk on a swamp of old-growth trees, we watched for the squirrels and looked at the cypress knees. Raccoon tracks made of tan mud spotted the boardwalk. We laughed and forgot about our disappointment and the months of excitement and decided that Nature had a different plan for us.
A few other trail wanderers passed us, but largely the park was empty. Other trails went deeper into the swamp, but the sun was setting soon, and gray clouds covered the sky anyway, so we decided to make do with what we could.
I’d dealt with travel disappointments before. Once, having not slept in over twenty-four hours, I became lost in a foreign city as it began to rain. I scurried under an umbrella on a terrace and watched, dripping and holding my bags, as puddles formed in the stoned alleyways. A strange beauty started to assert itself all around me then. The nearby cathedral started to toll its bell, marking 10 a.m., and I knew where to seek refuge.
I still remember how magnificent it looked when I first saw it rise from afar as I stepped into a new alleyway. Between stone walls, its spires loomed in the distance, beckoning me forth. The rain slowed and my hair dried and I walked squeaking into this beautiful building, and I knew that a little rain couldn’t ruin this for me.
And, likewise, a little snow couldn’t ruin this trip for me. Turning around was difficult to do, I’ll admit it. However, turning around led me to something else, something I didn’t expect. It led me to a beautiful spot in nature, untouched and protected by human hands. It also led me toward a better relationship with my girlfriend. Together, we faced disappointment, and we dealt with it. On our drive after walking the trail, we laughed and talked more than we had the whole day. And that, I realized, is what it was all about; we didn’t need Nashville or some big destination. Hell, we didn’t need a destination at all. All we needed was the journey itself. The car ride and the miles of road that flowed beneath us proved to be what this trip was all about. And in the end, I wasn’t disappointed.
