The Five Stages Of Student Travel Grief

I’ve had enough. I need to get out of here.

There is a passion that burns at the core of my soul; I want to break the shackles of my University existence and go travelling, and I know I’m not the only Monash student who feels this way. I need to see Italy, I need to see Japan, Russia, Zanzibar, Brazil. Even right at this moment, with deadlines looming like a sinister force, I’m daydreaming of an island somewhere – and I’m not even a beachgoing person.

The main problem with my travel plans is that something will always get in the way.  Whether it’s a time barrier (“Would I like to edit Lot’s Wife? Sure!”), a financial barrier (“Do I want two weeks in Thailand, or a car that moves?”) or even if someone just needs to stay home and feed the cat, I can’t seem to stop myself from finding excuses.The University calendar is a particular problem – who wants to go travelling in the Northern Hemisphere during the dead of winter? So every semester, like many others, I will inevitably revisit the Five Stages of Student Travel Grief:

Denial: “I’m a free person, damn it! I’m an adult! I’m autonomous! I have a credit card!”

Anger: “What do you mean by ‘Enrolment Census Date?’”

Bargaining: “I’ll definitely go on a trip after my degree. Or my honours. Or my PhD.”

Depression: “Maybe I’ll just buy some Vodka and Tequila, and call it a ‘world tour’”.

Acceptance: “I can’t find my fucking passport anyway.”

Seeing my friends and acquaintances go on their own trips over the winter break has only compounded my desire. So, it’s time for me to take a stand and commit myself to travelling, here in print. Watch out, world – next week I’m heading for Werribee.

Bren Carruthers

The author Bren Carruthers

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