I'm Taking My Own Advice.
On being brave in a new way.
October 21, 2022
Happy Friday, travelers!
This week, I’m taking my own advice. I’m being brave.
Traveling to faraway places with little preconceived notions, arms open wide, ready to take in whatever experience comes my way is natural to me. But this? Eh, not so much.
This week, I ironed out the paid tiers of From the Aisle Seat. After going back and forth over the past few months about how to do this, I have arrived somewhere I’m happy with. For now, at least.
First things first: From the Aisle Seat’s weekly Friday installment will always arrive free.
The only change with Friday emails is that archives will no longer be free forever. If you want to remain a free subscriber, you are always welcome here. From the Aisle Seat is free the week it goes out, then each issue goes behind the paywall once the newest installment is live.
If you’d like to support this space financially, paid subscribers receive:
Special paid posts, the first of which is going out next week (in addition to Friday’s email)
Access to the full archives, forever
Access to forthcoming special columns, like Flexitarian and Piecework (which will be introduced soon, but the gist is this: Flexitarian is a specialty cuisine column, and Piecework is about piecing together a career from multi-entrepreneurship.)
Subscribers to the highest tier receive:
Everything from above, and
You can read or listen to From the Aisle Seat. I’ll read each issue aloud, and put them in podcast episodes here on Substack.
This Substack article is also helpful if you want to upgrade your subscription.
If you’d like to contribute financially, but none of these options work for you, you’re always welcome to buy me a coffee. From the Aisle Seat comes to you courtesy of a significant dose of caffeine.
Thank you all for being here, for reading, for subscribing, and (maybe) supporting financially. The Journey to 197 would not be what it is without every single last one of you.
One of my favorite writers on Substack shared this on her Instagram before leaving the app:
“The “not-doing-this” highlights what I do want to do. Negative space makes the work clearer. Silence prevents music from decaying into chaos. Boundaries allow us to flourish as well.”
-Lisa Hensley, in this Instagram post
What stayed with me from this excerpt of her caption is this: What you don’t prioritize shows what matters to you. And even farther, it allows you to magnify, to focus in on what does. I’ve touched on this concept often recently, in life and in creative work. If I only get 24 hours per day, should I continue to live them like this? What will happen if I don’t change, and, perhaps more importantly, what won’t change that definitely should?
Like everything else I interact with, everything else that speaks to me, I pictured myself in a different place, experiencing this exact concept a world away.
When people are removed from our comfort zones and placed in a new context, what matters is exemplified. Emboldened. Highlighted. When you only have 3 days to spend before moving on to somewhere new, what matters in that fleeting window of time determines where to go, how to spend money, and, most importantly, what to eat.
As for me, I will always choose culture. History, art, museums, bookstores, libraries, architectural marvels, charming side streets, UNESCO World Heritage Sites, small local restaurants serving something beautiful. These draw me in, keep me there, nurture me into the writer I am today, and, hopefully, make me into a better one as the years go by.
Which places and sights pull you in, and why?
What’s On My Tray Table
At the time of writing, I’m less than 100 pages from finishing Crying in H Mart. As a reminder, it’s a memoir from Michelle Zauner, indie musician Japanese Breakfast.
As a biracial woman, I find her candor around what it was like to grow up half-Korean, half-white in Eugene, Oregon to be so refreshing. I have to stop several times to take in the weight of what she says. I can hear my own experiences in her words, particularly the experience of not being fully one race, nor fully another, and yet being related to people that are fully each. It can be so isolating.
Trevor Noah addresses this in his memoir, as well. He said the most fascinating thing, that he has to be reminded to socialize after the isolation of a biracial childhood. When I read that, I felt seen. The first time I sat in a circle with other biracial people (we were not all the same type of mix, but the impact was the same) was my senior year in college. It felt like exhaling a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding. We got one another. That’s the feeling I get when reading about Zauner’s childhood in Crying in H Mart.
As Zauner shares the progression of her mom’s illness, which is a central theme of the story, I can feel her agony peel off the page. It’s a pain I cannot imagine, like part of you is gone forever. I’m very close to my mom, so the poignancy of this story is magnified to me as a reader.
Even if the writing were lackluster (it isn’t) or the story more mundane (it definitely isn’t), I’d read this book just to save all the Korean dishes she mentions. I’m making a list in my phone so I can try them all (plant-based or, at minimum, ovo-veggie) when I finally go to Korea myself. It’s one of my top 10, maybe even top 5, countries to visit next.
You should read this book. Here are links for Amazon and Bookshop.
New on Sarah L. Travels
Copenhagen Travel Guide
My Favorite Books of All Time (no reviews or synopses in this one, just covers and titles!)
Mexico City Travel Guide
Mexico City Vegan Guide
Upcoming: Copenhagen Vegan Guide and some fun book lists!
I hope your weekend comes with a good book. If you’re already reading one, would you comment below to share?
Be brave and stay that way,
Sarah