10 Traveling Commandments
Wanderer above the Sea of Fog by Caspar David Friedrich
I once met a traveler in Butte, Montana who said he was riding the rails south.
I was less traveled than a fish in a bowl back then, and hadn’t a clue what he meant, but the mystery of this grizzled character sparked enough curiosity for me take a seat on the curb next to him and his gray dog, who he introduced as Nebelmeer.
“Where are you two headed?”
“Riding the rails south,” he repeated.
“Don’t you have a destination?”
“Of course I do.”
We sat in silence.
“So you’re like, a vagabond then?”
He smiled, answering with his tobacco stained teeth as if they were the certificate of authenticity.
I came to know that he had been living on the road for a decade. He compared himself to Dean Moriarty without as many lovers, but after seeing that I didn’t catch the reference, he laughed and introduced himself as Mozy.
“You got a Christian name, Mozy?”
“Funny question coming from a kid your age. But yes, Moses is my name.”
“Moses, do you have any tips for traveling? Some guidelines? I haven’t seen the world but want to.”
He stopped strumming his beat-up banjo and gazed into the distance. From his gaze, you would've thought he was taking in the whole world from a mountain taller than Everest, but all I saw was a brick wall on the other side of the street.
“What’s your name again? Zane? You know Zane, I do have something like that. Most of them I learned the hard way.”
He started cleaning his nails with a pocketknife.
“I’ve never written them down or anything. Maybe you should. Etch them into some tablets with your finger or something.”
Three years later, I’m making good on my end of the bargain.
These are the 10 Traveling Commandments according to Moses, the first vagabond I ever met:
Have a North Star, generally.
It’s easy to be swept away in the world. It’s even easier when you’re a stranger amongst strangers because there isn’t anyone keeping you accountable.
Before you leave home, have a general idea of why you are leaving. That’s your compass on the open sea.
“Indeed, as long as you are ignorant of what you should avoid or seek, or of what is necessary or superfluous, or of what is right or wrong, you will not be traveling, but merely wandering”
–Seneca, Letters from a Stoic
2. If you’re offered food, eat it. And then say you like it (even if you don’t).
“As a traveler, I believe in the 'Grandma rule'—meaning when I go to Grandma's house, I eat what Grandma puts on the table. I may not like Grandma's food. It may even conflict with my personal beliefs. But I'm going to eat it.”
–Anthony Bourdain
Enough said.
3. Don’t travel with more than you can sprint with.
Mobility over Comfort. Less to carry, less to care about.
4. Keep walking.
Get outside the tourist zone. Dodge the cab drivers. Dodge the people waving menus in your face. Dodge the rug merchant promising you a free tea, no strings attached. They are sirens on your odyssey.
Push onward. Take the side-alley. Get lost.
5. Travel slow.
What good is it if you visit every country but have only seen the capital cities and your only “friends” are bartenders and cab drivers?
Just like more ingredients in the skillet doesn’t make for a better omelet, more stamps in the passport doesn’t equate to richer travel experiences.
6. Sweat with the locals.
He left this one fairly vague, but one things for sure: you don’t want to be the traveler lounging about like an overfed sultan while locals cater to your every need.
Labor with them. Dance with them. Play the game. Join the festivity of life.
7. Save the best stories for yourself.
And when you do share stories, don’t share them in real-time.
Give yourself a few days, or better yet, weeks for the experience to set into your memory without exposing it to the opinions of others (good or bad).
“Vagabonding is, was, and always will be a private undertaking–and its goal is to improve your life not in relation to your neighbor but in relation to yourself.”
–Rolf Potts
