Why I’m not scared of travel (to the point of stupidity)
Nothing about travel scares me at this point. I could go to North Korea, deep into North Korea without an escort, and I feel like I’d be okay. I could rove around the African jungles without malaria medication and feel like I’d be fine. I could…
I don’t know. What’s left?
The more I’ve traveled, the more my fear of travel has gone away. I think Korea worried me when I first landed. Now, I don’t worry about the travel – now, I worry about feeling lonely or useless or something like that. I don’t worry about physical harm or crime or getting lost or sick or any of those kinds of things that (supposedly) come with travel.
I wish I could say I trust God to protect me, that I don’t worry about foreign places because I have him on my side.
The truth is, though, I’m not scared of travel for another reason: familiarity. It doesn’t feel unusual anymore. That makes it feel less adventurous too, but also less scary.
And that’s why I think it might have progressed (or regressed?) to the point of stupidity. I’m not cautious now. I’ve passed from that right through confidence to cockiness. But it sure makes travel less stressful.