There is something to be said for solitary journeys. Every long trip taken alone has the potential to turn us into a different someone. Hours alone in thought. Time away from the familiar. The almost sedative background drone of churning engine parts and the hypnotic rickety-rick of steel wheels turning over rail tracks.
On long unaccompanied journeys, introspection is compelled. What else can be done while gazing over passing scenery?
Sitting at home in a state of vegetation with aimless Internet browsing and TV surfing might prompt infrequent reason to question thoughts and feelings but day long travel confined within a coach, plain or train leaves few ways to escape subconscious questions.
We can flirt with self torment and interrupt the reverie of a fellow passenger then discover too late that his or her off button was never fitted.
Smartphones and tablets offer temporary distraction in travel but soon grow dull on our sense of entertainment. No, no matter how hard we try to ignore ourself we always fall back to staring out of a window or at the floor between our legs, at the back of the head in front or anywhere but intentionally at ourself yet eventually, into ourself is the place we finally rest our attention.
To me, it is inescapable, travel makes me think about myself and my interaction with the world. By the time I arrive at a destination I am already a little bit a new me; and by the time I arrive back home I am a little bit more a new me.