The art of travel... and video games

A futile attempt to forgo essential parts of self for an idealized state of perpetual pleasure.

For weeks before our flight was set to take off for Europe, I agonized over the inevitability of bringing my whole self with me.

Anticipation of pleasure is arguably the greater source of pleasure for me than the pleasure itself. Nowhere else is it truer for me than when travelling. I’ve done a lot of it. There was nothing else I’d rather spend money on in my twenties and early thirties… heck, even now.

When I anticipate our next trip, I fantasize about long walks on cobbled streets, unhurried lunches with a glass of wine or two, dinners on the terrace under the stars, beach days, ice cream, coffee to go, stunning views, and being with the two people I love the most.

This is exactly how our vacations usually go, in all honesty. We do all of these things. But the anticipation of them and the pleasure of that fantasy conveniently skips over the fact that in the midst of all that fun, the reality will be much messier, and I will still be… me.

The art of anticipating wisely

Philosopher Alain de Botton greatly influenced my perspective on the anticipation of travel and one’s inability to leave the self behind. (I highly recommend Alain’s excellent book, The Art of Travel, for more.) The reality rarely matches the expectations. After decades of travel, I’m well aware of that, hence the weeks of painful realization that what I envisioned is not what will be.

I will feel anxiety, I will still need to sleep, and I might be tired on some days and cranky on others. My child and my husband will have needs and desires of their own. Good sleep isn’t guaranteed, and being healthy isn’t either.

In other words, just like everyone else, I travel with the wholeness of my being, physical and mental.

And I don’t like it.

The art of travel

I wrote most of this essay while on vacation. All the pleasures imagined were there, interspersed with the mundane of going to bed way too late, having to wake up early, shopping for groceries, working around my local friends’ schedules and the kitchen hours of local restaurants, dealing with mosquito bites, worrying about baby getting a surprise fever.

I hoped I would work on my writing in the evening, brainstorm pitches for future features, write in my journal, sip a nice red, and play a game or two on my Chromebook. Instead, all I had the energy for was binging shows and drinking Coke Zero because I didn’t like the idea of a hangover in the morning.

Would that I could instead inhabit a world where my physical needs didn’t matter as much. Where they didn’t interfere with the deluge of pleasant experiences I seek when travelling.

Wouldn’t it be great to dive into pleasure without the minutiae of having a body and a mind that carry 36 years’ worth of baggage, history, needs, and desires?

Wouldn’t it be great to conveniently bypass the fact that any vacation destination is also a real place with real people, happenings, and peculiarities, not just a picture-perfect playground for my getaway plans?

Wouldn’t it be nice to fully escape from reality?

Reminds you of something, perhaps?

The art of escape

This is what video games do for me. The kind of escape where I can forget about being myself for a bit and embody someone (or something) else instead. Neither I, the player, nor my in-game avatar need to worry about hunger, anxiety, boredom, or weariness. Their needs are stripped down or removed entirely, as I temporarily neglect mine.

Even in the most realistic open-world RPGs like Kingdom Come: Deliverance, where basic survival forms a part of the game mechanics, the challenge is trivial in comparison to real life. Once you get the hang of it, stock up on bandages and honey, you’re golden—free to focus on adventuring and questing.

Where’s the remedy to magically remove the baby’s nap routine (or, rather, the consequences for not sticking to it), turn all restaurants to open at all hours, and give me unlimited energy to do fun things, whether it’s 8 am or 12 am, in real life?

The ability to escape the physical body and wholly focus on exploration is what I love the most about video games. I can be someone with no fully realized human needs, and do so without guilt, while running this stand-in to the ground with no complaints and no consequences, using this avatar to explore, have fun, and experience the pleasure I seek in my own life. The reality comes with add-ons; the video game universe doesn’t have to.

This is probably the reason why I love video games so much in general. They are my in-home version of travel and escape. I love the fantasy of imagining myself in new places, surrounded by beauty, barren of needs, fully immersed in pleasure.

On the other hand, travel brings the thrill of adventure and the unexpected to real life in ways video games never could. This is why I don’t really play video games while away. Nothing pales in comparison with reality, no matter how messy.

The art of acceptance

The question of bringing the self with me still remains. I sometimes feel that it interferes. But I also cannot forget that my body and mind not only drag me down, but are also the whole reason I can fully experience the world. The bigger the mess, the brighter the best parts shine.

The idea of leaving my whole self behind is a fantasy. The reality of it happening would probably be nowhere near as rosy as I imagine.

(Who in their right mind would be okay with having honey for breakfast, lunch, and dinner while on vacation in Prague, or sleeping for 3 to 12 hours at odd hours of the day? Not me!)

Travel and video games are two of my favourite things. I love that they both enrich and force me to confront things about my own mind that I otherwise wouldn’t have to.

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