Eyes Open, Map Shut: How I Got Over a Rough Start to My Sabbatical

I’d been in Reykjavik for less than two hours before I got mistaken for a local. I’d been sitting quietly by a duck pond when a gentleman approached me asking for directions to an art gallery. I’d noticed the building on my way into town and pointed it out for him. It’s a tiny moment and I’m not just trying to #humblebrag. But I’d also be lying if I claimed to have felt anything but an embarrassingly strong sense of validation as I walked back toward the storefronts lining the main street of Laugavegur.

Little did my fellow traveler realize, his question couldn’t have come at a time I needed it more. I had just landed in Reykjavik the morning after an entire day in transit, with 12 more hours between me and my hostel bed. A rough start to an ambitious trip. Wandering around downtown, it suddenly hit me that I’d left my everyday black cardigan hanging on the closet door at home.

Such a small mistake, and by no means irreparable, but the fog of jet lag and the heady ups and downs of leaving home for a full year are sunlight and water to the seeds of self-doubt. It’s not even noon on my first day and I’ve already screwed up. What am I doing here? Who am I kidding? And then that seed germinated into thoughts like: I’ve grown so used to being in a relationship, I have forgotten how to be alone. 

There was no one there to help me. No one watching my back. I was the only person who would care about my safety, my happiness, or my comfort. And the only person who can make those things happen. How am I already this homesick and lonely so soon?

I happened across Lake Tjölnin right as these realizations first struck me, so I found a quiet park bench where I could stew until the moment passed. That question about the art gallery interrupted my internal shame spiral. As I walked away, I (full Carrie Bradshaw voice here) couldn’t help but wonder, why did that man think I could help.

I’m by no means arrogant enough to believe I really seem like a local Icelander. But I realized I also didn’t seem like the stereotypical American tourist. I was by myself, not with a companion or a group. I was relaxing at a duck pond, not browsing a museum or exploring one of Reykjavik’s more famous attractions. I did not have my camera out. I did not have my nose stuck in a map or glued to my phone. And thank goodness I didn’t.

While I wouldn’t recommend this course of action for every destination, in a city as small and safe as Reykjavik, there’s not much need for a map. By following my nose instead of someone else’s directions, I stumbled across the types of parks and street art that always become my favorite parts of cities.

And I noticed more about my surroundings.

Had I picked up a map, or stayed glued to my smartphone that first morning, I wouldn’t have been able to help a fellow tourist when he needed it. And I’d probably still feel like a bad traveler myself. Instead, I got a reminder that we are not defined by our mistakes or our setbacks.

I got to reassure myself that however rusty I might be after over two years of staying close to home, I am a good traveler. I work to balance iconic attractions with more off-the-beaten-path sights. I focus more on doing than on seeing. I am willing to put my camera and my phone away to be simply in the moment. I rein in my fear of missing out, but only sometimes. And, perhaps, most importantly, I keep my eyes open and my map shut.

It’s incredibly common to have a rough start to your sabbatical. Many a reddit forum has been filled with first day or first week tales of woe. All of those anxieties and worries are perfectly normal… and I promise that the worst fears are untrue. If you get stuck in a shame spiral like I did, or you feel kowtowed by loneliness and homesickness, or you face disappointment that your experience doesn’t match what you see on social media, ride it out for an hour or a day. Find ways to be present in the moment. And go find somebody you can help. All of that can help you recover from a rough start.