When I think about it logically it does make a sort of sense for me to call my journey a pilgrimage, as many of my fellow travellers do. There are indeed elements which make it very similar to a journey of devotion to a place where pilgrams hope to find enlightenment, though my path leads more to the metaphorical destinations of solitude, silence and the psyche than actual places of worship. I was told once by a wise old philosopher/auto-rickshaw driver that I was quiet due to my holding too much of my heart in my head, over-thinking and never trusting and I was instructed that the cure to this was to follow my heart so, while my motives might not match those of the Hindus and Hare Krishna’s I encountered in Varanasi, nor the countless Buddhists I saw in Dharamshala, I too have been basing my travels on blind faith.

Before I begin to worry my empiricism-loving friends, who I’ve promised I will not return home to a raving hippy or fanatical cult member, I should mention that I have not placed my faith in some omnipresent universal force or divine entity, I have not chosen to excuse myself of fault or planning by resigning myself to a path of faith or destiny, nor handed over the reigns of my daily routine to the rituals of a religious text. My faith has instead been placed in something far more fallible, far more physical and human and, I will freely admit, something far more egocentric; Me. My entire journey has relied upon, been planned around and been thoroughly entrusted to myself and my own abilities, something I entered this journey without little prior knowledge of.

Until India I had never been without family and friends for more than a few hours at a time, had never relied wholly on my own judgement nor dealt with so many external factors without an instant support network. As such, I started out uncertain of how I would respond to the world and, at each step, I was unsure if whether I had responded as I should. I constantly questioned my actions and responses, waiting as though for a study score which reveal the answer to my permanent question; “Am I doing this right?” My need for feedback reached the unconscious level of waiting for some external sign, a universal report ordaining “C+ on your volunteering and a D for Varanasi. You lost points on shyness and limited communication as well as not paying enough attention to what you ate”. As much as I was enjoying myself I often passed up opportunities due to etiquette, timidity or over-thinking, something I would immediately regret.

Nervous about being alone I will confess, with great embarrassment, to imagining a companion, a calm and rational friend who would observe my barely-keeping-it-together internal expression and kindly (or occasionally in a manner which could only be described as exasperated) ask “What’s the worst that could happen?”. Missing my plane, going through a bus crash and the regular encounters with the sleazy, the scary and, for lack of a better word, the ’touchy-feely’ of India’s dominant gender, were all events likely to provoke the company of my imaginary friend. At times a handsome, faceless guy, he would apologise for the idiocy of his sex and serve as a comforting, protective presence or on other occasions, my mother as a young woman, wise in her travels and approachable in her familiarity. It was only recently I realised how the regularity of these imaginings had decreased and how when they did occur the companion closely resembled myself (something which may have slightly damaged the effectiveness, such as the occasions when my imaginary self is hiding behind me with an expression that says “Hey, do I look like I want to get any closer to that rabid dog than you do?”)

And that’s been far from my only discovery. The journey ‘inside’, to refer to it in the flakiest term possible, has held many lessons in regards to what I want, like and do when unbiased by others’ decisions and while it’s been joked for years that I am ‘truly my father’s daughter’, inheriting his penchant for procrastination, his bunions, slow temper and distaste for conflict and serious business discussions, this trip has served well in highlighting to me my connection with Mum, and that which she has passed on to me. The travel-bug, of course, (though unfortunately not the caste-iron stomach, which perhaps has to be earned) but in addition, the calm exterior in uncomfortable situations, the decisiveness(even if it takes me a little longer) and (I hope) the sense of quiet confidence which allows one to appear totally at home in their surroundings and leads to one being asked by others for directions (even by Indians!). Of course there is also the recent discovery of my genetic petrolhead-ism (sp?) though most of you won’t know that about my mother and I doubt she wants to know it about me!

I’m by no means finished with my journey yet, learning more and risking more each day in the testing of my limits, but I’m happy to be recognizing the changes and feel constantly rewarded for my ever-growing faith and the realisation that there’s no real ‘right and wrong’ to this.  So far, in my assesment at least, I think I’m headed for an A+.