Writing about travel while the world burns

The guilt of writing frivolously and why I'm choosing to carry on anyway

I’ve fallen seriously behind on my travel diaries, which doesn’t bother me too much – I never planned on keeping to a strict schedule. As much as I wanted to write about this trip, I also wanted to experience it to the fullest without worrying about self-imposed deadlines or expectations.

But one of the things that’s held me back recently is more of a moral, philosophical question. Recently, an influencer I follow on Instagram posted about how she would hold off on sharing photos from her recent trip to Sri Lanka as it felt insensitive in the current climate. She was right, and I followed suit, but it made me wonder – when, while the world burns, is an appropriate time to write about travel?

Writing about travel right now feels like having your baby’s gender reveal at someone’s funeral. It feels like pulling out a guitar and strumming songs you wrote yourself to a burning forest fire. Not criminal, or even ‘bad’, but certainly unnecessary, arguably tacky, insensitive and self-indulgent.

In your twenties, travel is admired, encouraged, applauded, but when you tell people you’re going travelling in your thirties, everyone sighs a different tune. The rest of your friends are shoulder-deep in successful careers, they’re growing families, creating life, and you’re voluntarily living out of a backpack for months at a time. “Best to do it now,” you’ll hear again and again, along with things like “It’ll be good to get it out of your system” and “when you come back to real life…”

The implication is that travel is a frivolous thing that you really should have outgrown by now. Fine for the occasional holiday, but not as a (gulp) lifestyle.

Even if you’re willing to brush these opinions away, as I usually am, long-term travel is undeniably reserved for those privileged enough to work remotely and move freely around the world.

And then there’s the part that tourism plays in exacerbating climate change and cultural erosion around the world, from overcrowding to long haul flight emissions.

That’s all to say, I felt guilty about travelling before, and there was even some discomfort writing about it. “I know you’re all worried about fascism and white supremacy, but do you want to hear about my trip to Goa?” And this was before the US and Israel were at war with Iran, before bombs came raining down all over the Middle East, before flights ground to a halt and travellers were stuck in limbo.

Suddenly, my little travel diaries felt woefully small and silly.

Here’s what brought me back to the page…

Just like any of the best advice I’ve gotten, it came in the form of a casual message from my mom, in between the usual Instagram reels of funny animals we send back and forth.

“And so we cling to silliness,” she wrote “trying desperately to believe we will not be swimming in complete catastrophe.”

This made me think of the other things we cling to: comfort, friendship, love, exploration, art – all the things that have been called frivolous but actually connect us on a deep, human level.

The world has always been complex and wrought with tragedy. That’s not to diminish or normalise what’s going on now, but just to say that our instant access to information is flooding our brains and wreaking havoc with our nervous systems. Recent studies show that human beings process more data every day than what an educated person 500 years ago would have processed in an entire lifetime.

And anyone that has even a grain of empathy or compassion will struggle to make peace with the utter senselessness and cruelty of what other people face. It should make us uncomfortable, and it should prompt us to wonder what we can do to make a difference.

But we can’t stop doing the things that bring us joy, and we can’t stop doing all the things that humans (and not AI) were meant to do. If using my own brain to write little stories that only a handful of people read is my small act of rebellion for now, I’m okay with that.

And yes, travel has its moral conundrums, but I can’t believe that it’s without value, especially as right-wing extremism spreads. I’ve seen up-close the remnants of brutal wars and corrupt regimes, the detrimental effects of climate change and climate-related policies, and the lasting economic scars of colonisation and political upheaval. There is no greater teacher than travel, if you’re willing to pay attention. But it also reveals something much more important.

There is far more kindness in the world than we’ve been led to believe – far more generosity, curiosity and compassion. The more I’ve travelled, the more I’ve realised that, yes, the world is big and we are very small, but there are delicate, living threads that bond us all together – and they have nothing to do with the internet. There’s more that we share than sets us apart.

So I’ll keep travelling and I’ll keep writing about these threads – out of hope, or habit, or just as a way to carry on.

Like offering a single flower to a yawning black hole of fear and uncertainty – and is there anything wrong with that?

I’ll be back in your inbox’s soon with my Goa travel diaries and my favourite can’t-miss experiences in Kerala. Until then, be safe, keep hope, and stay silly.