October 28, 2022
Happy Friday, travelers!
First things first, I’ve already changed my mind about paid subscriptions. Last weekend, I curled up under cozy throw blankets and read through several of Emiko Davies’ Substack posts, as well as her old blog posts on her self-hosted website. As I read through her writing from 2020 and into last year, I realized I don’t want to deprive any newcomers here from the same experience I was having on her publication.
Friday emails are free forever. No timed paywall on those. However, I’ll be writing other really good posts that stay behind the paywall. If you want to experience the paid subscriber life here at From the Aisle Seat, you can start with a 7-day free trial! If you try to read a paywalled post, a message should pop up allowing you to opt into the trial. If you’re not seeing that on a paid post you want to read, comment here to let me know. The first two are going out this weekend and into early next week before we move into November.
Now, on to this week’s issue! Today, I’m telling one of my favorite travel stories intertwined with a topic that overtakes my consciousness on the regular. I know other travelers can relate to this ticking time bomb feeling of when the freedom to jet off on a whim will be over. Which country will be the last before I someday become Sarah L. Marries and Sarah L. Mothers? Will I still be Sarah L. Travels in the midst of it all? For some, it works. For others, their days on the road are numbered. And if I’m one of the latter, how could I say a proper goodbye to a love as deep as the one I have for this journey to 197?
On a breezy evening in Copenhagen, I got an Instagram DM after sharing an emerald green door with intricate carvings at the top. It was from a girl I knew from college, one of the few women who, like me, majored in economics. As it turns out, she had just moved to Nashville. A month after I landed back in Music City, we caught up over the best lavender lattes in town.
After four years apart, we had much to share. My spiel involved lots of travel stories, an overall timeline of how I got here career-wise. Saying it all out loud made me realize truly how much time had passed. On her end, she shared years of life in Chicago and the trajectory of her burgeoning career. Two hours later, we parted ways with dinner plans for Korean food in East Nashville the following week.
Over bulgogi and katsu, our conversation naturally drifted to the topic I have discussed with women at least once per week since my 25th birthday.
Marriage. Children. And the division (or lack thereof) of labor.
Each woman in my life has her own aspirations. Career, marriage, children—it looks differently for everyone, as unique as we all are to our core. But the one thing we all share is that we’re asking these questions now, in our mid-20s. The natural question for me personally is where all of this fits with a lifestyle like mine. How do we know we want the right things? It is as existential as it is practical. Our motivation and our actions exist in a circle, dependent on one another and so vital they inform our every move.
Any time I ponder marriage and family as a traveler, I’m transported back to Bangkok.
That morning started like all the others we’d had in Thailand. We woke, stretched our sore limbs, aching ever so slightly from sleeping on hard hostel mattresses. A half hour later, we padded down the stairs to breakfast in the open breezeway, Bangkok’s sounds and scents already at full force early in the morning.
I plugged in my laptop, just like I always do. But this time, nothing greeted me. Black screen, no Apple logo, no background. Absolutely nothing.
Reader, I panicked. I’m an anxious person, but rarely do I get into a full-on panic. This laptop, the very one I wrote this email on, is my entire office. No laptop, no money, no traveling.
Luckily for me, there’s an Apple store in Bangkok. And Val, my friend, was more than willing to take the long way around to get there. We walked through Chinatown, all the way to ICONSIAM, a gorgeous shopping mall. My stressful mishap gifted us our best day in the city.
As we walked, stopping every few feet for me to take photos, to take in everything around us, every sense magnified, I hung a right the flowers. We walked into a typical market space ubiquitous in Thailand.
Instead of fruits, vegetables, fish with one lifeless eye still looking back at you, or ready-to-eat pad thai, we were completely surrounded by flowers.
Blooms of the deepest violet, marigolds whose orange hue shone brighter than the sun, delicate petals of crisp white and vibrant fuchsia. As far as the eye could see, there was beauty.
In that moment, in the magic, I asked myself a question I still struggle to answer:
If there are moments like these to be had everywhere in the world, how will I ever stop seeking them?
I don’t have a tidy conclusion or a clear answer. All I know is, for now, I’m trying to get my “Who am I?” question right so that my “What should I do?” question starts answering itself.1
What’s On My Tray Table
The Yellow Bird Sings is a novel set in Poland in the early 40s. By the time the plot begins and we’re introduced to Róża and Shira, Nazis have occupied Poland for at least two, maybe three years. The restrictions on Jews started gradually, which the book touches on through flashbacks. From the first page, this mother and daughter are already hiding in a barn, staying silent to save their lives. When an opportunity arises for Shira to hide in a convent, Róża must make the agonizing decision to separate from her child for a chance at safety, or to stick together at all costs.
Out of curiosity, I went ahead and started Megha Majumdar’s A Burning. From the first chapter, I am fascinated by the premise: a Muslim Indian girl makes a careless comment on Facebook, which places her at the center of a controversial, highly publicized investigation after a terrorist attack.
New on the Blog
New on the blog is my Copenhagen vegan guide, my last writing on Denmark for now. In this post is one of the top 10 restaurants I’ve ever been to out of all 24 countries and the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten. This place is truly that good.
Now, I’m off to spend the weekend in Chicago with my two best friends from college! This is the first time all three of us have been together since graduation four years ago. I hope your weekend is also full of friends, love, and laughter.
Be brave and stay that way,
Sarah
This is from a Richard Rohr quote.