Travel has long played a prominent role in the education process. In “Some Thoughts Concerning Education”, John Locke points out, “The last part usually in education is travel, which is commonly thought to finish the work, and complete the gentleman.” Rousseau also emphasizes the necessity of travel in the education manual Emile, in which he proclaims, “Travel pushes a man toward his natural bent and completes the job of making him good or bad. Whoever returns from roaming the world is, upon his return, what he will be for his whole life.”
The reason why travel is important may seem obvious and cliché—to have new experiences and encounter new acquaintances. Consequently, this exposure to an unfamiliar environment will simultaneously (and perhaps counterintuitively) determine one’s identity and broaden one’s horizons.
While I had been aware of travel’s immense impact on the development of the self, the idea remained abstract to me, something I had only read about in books for a course on education. My recent sojourn abroad, however, showed me that travel is still instrumental to personal growth and, perhaps more importantly, that some big life lessons cannot be learned from books.
After reaching this conclusion, I was, ironically, reminded of Petrarch and his letters. According to Petrarch, travel and reading are the best ways to gain experience. He favors reading over travel because it allows one to avoid the consequences, and often mistakes, of travel. This hierarchy is a bit misleading, considering that Petrarch admits that he has learned his lessons the hard way. In this case, I trust Petrarch the person over Petrarch the writer. In order to gain cherished moments, one must experience things firsthand. Though I had previously depended on books as my guide to the world, I realized that I had to navigate it myself.
I was sitting in the courtyard of the British Library waiting for it to open at 9:30. Around 9:10, a line began to form in front of the entrance, and by 9:29, the line had snaked across the courtyard. As someone who arrives early to most social events—I was the girl in elementary school who showed up at birthday parties when the parents were still stringing up the “Happy Birthday” banner—I had found my people. Not to mention, the British Library also serves beer and wine.
Punctuality and drinking aside, my time in London did elicit significant epiphanies. Although most people would not consider examining manuscripts at the Royal Society and the British Library exciting, I was thrilled whenever I happened upon interesting marginalia or a particularly significant line in an unpublished poem. The fact that 17th-century correspondences made me giddy suggested to me that, perhaps, I was fit for postgraduate studies.
One such margin note was from one of Margaret Cavendish’s personal letters, in which she scribbled an apology for having a scribe pen the letter on account of her abysmal handwriting. Considering the popularity of scribes among well-to-do people, the note seems rather unremarkable. Yet, as a close reader of Cavendish’s work “The Blazing World,” I recalled that her heroine confessed to a similar handwriting issue. Given the interest surrounding the autobiographical nature of Cavendish’s work, I was excited to uncover new evidence supporting the argument that the heroine is Cavendish’s alter ego.
Unfortunately, life is not like the movies, and personal epiphanies are never so clear-cut (not to mention the fact that research papers are really daunting), so by the end, my uncertainties about the future also increased. Away from the ambition characteristic of Columbia students and New Yorkers, I met people who were happy just floating through life.
To nitpick a little, traveling has not dramatically changed any part of my life. Yet I started my summer plagued with uncertainties about the future, and by the end, well, the uncertainties remained, but I embraced them. After all, most of the world exists outside the library and at age 21, with more literary than lived experience under my belt, maybe a little bit of post-grad floundering would not be so terrible.
Lucy Tang is a Columbia College senior majoring in English. Sentimental Education runs alternate Wednesdays.
Comments
We're looking for comments that are interesting and substantial. If your comments are excessively self-promotional or obnoxious you will be banned from commenting. Consult the comment FAQ and legal terms.