For the weary traveler a perfect playlist can be the best companion. Through three months and eight countries I have been using my Wanderlust playlist as a faithful companion to punctuate and perfect the constant mood swings of my travels. Anyone who has lived abroad or traveled alone knows how beautifully unpoetic travel can be. Rarely do your adventures turn out like the plans you’ve made, let alone the imagined fantasies. Beyond the Instagram-filtered moments, there are many others where you don’t speak the language, don’t know where you are, and wonder why you did this trip willingly? In those moments, a musical reality check can be quite useful – because in fact it’s never as dire as it seems. To help keep my travel adventures in perspective this summer I started curating my own personal soundtrack, some songs to match the specific challenges in my path, and others as friendly reminders of my community back home. Along the way I learned that if fantasy fails to become reality, you can at least play sound engineer to curate your own original storyline.
When traveling my first choice of songs tends to come film soundtracks, and I owe this fascination to long standing love of cinematic genius Wes Anderson. I could write a masters thesis on my obsession with Anderson’s film soundtracks, their ability to calibrate the audience’s reaction to beautiful onscreen cinematography and superb acting, is an art form all it’s own. It is perhaps for this reason that I can so easily recall scenes of Anderson’s films and use their acoustic accompaniment to enhance my present experience.
When I planned to travel around Vietnam solo I knew it would be a challenge, but certain aspects were unseen (perhaps blissfully so). One such challenging leg of the journey was a 14 hour overnight train from Hue to Hanoi. I barely made the train, lugging my big suitcases onto the platform (note the 3 foot jump from door to platform above). Once on the train, I spent a sleepless night on a small hard cot, in a bunker with three Vietnamese men. I had to mime to four different train staff members before getting a clean blanket. As my ancient train rumbled North in the darkness I tossed and turned sleeplessly, trying to stay positive and reflect on what an “adventure” this was. Soon I was reminded of the crazy train travel in Anderson’s film the Darjeeling Limited. I smiled and began playing the Kinks through my earbuds and felt instantly soothed. I’ll likely not repeat that disastrous travel and accommodation combo again, but I know the journey would have been much worse had I not been distracted by Anderson’s travel soundtrack.
After my train ride to Hanoi I took a second train, a ferry, then a cab ride to reach my destination – Cat Ba Island, an beautiful forested island on the southern side of Halong Bay. Hoping to see the wilds of Vietnam’s islands untouched I had chosen to stay at a supremely rustic EcoLodge…set in jungle valley, down a long dirt road, on the opposite side of the island from the port city. Oh, and I happened to be the only resident onsite for two days. Talk about a true nature retreat of self-imposed isolation! Ha! The first day I was exhausted from the sleep-less train ride but itching to get outside. So I took off on the trails beyond my cabin to explore, and mostly ponder why I had thought staying in such a remote lodge, on a remote island, was a good idea.
As I hiked the jungle hills behind the Ecolodge and passed the occasional rice patty farmer or local family piled atop a motorbike I remembered to pause. I stood on the trail and inhaled three large deep breaths of clean jungle air. It felt divine. After six weeks in polluted Shanghai I was grateful for clean air in a way I had never been before. That night I saw the stars for the first time in six weeks, pretty amazing stuff. In my earbuds I staved off loneliness on these treks through Eddie Vedder’s Into the Wild soundtrack. While my solo quest was far from the Alaskan wilderness, Vedder’s anthem for traveling to find self actualization fit the mood quite perfectly. If one had to be alone, I told myself, the wilds of Vietnam was a dazzling place to ponder life and my place in it.
Eventually I learned to ride a motorbike around Cat Ba island, as a cheap means of transport and a much needed dose of independence from the island’s meager taxi service. Having never rode a motorbike the learning curve was a bit steep, but once I got a hang of it, it was the most exciting ride of my life! I can’t wait to go again. Left to my own devices I could explore old bunkers, jungle parks, and hidden beaches. On these rides my aptly titled “Cycling Beats” playlist (made for SF bike commuting) was an apt soundtrack. In particular, this song fit my new exhilarating new ride and waterside views well.
While traveling I had a lot of time to reflect, and one such revelation was the irony of how spending time in crowded places can make one feel more isolated, even if surrounded by those we know. Perhaps it’s a lack of strong, intimate connections while abroad that adds to this surreal out of body experience. When I got back to the city life in Europe I noticed this feeling a lot. It felt like I was watching a film of yourself exploring a new land, wondering how others see you. To process this aloof observation process I dove deep into the moody tunes of the Velvet Underground. In particular, their sleeper hit “After Hours” touches upon these anti-social themes beautifully.
On a more upbeat note, another favorite album of mine this summer was Alt-J’s new June release, RELAXER. It dropped while I was living in Shanghai and the throbbing base beats, trimmed string instrumentals and wild vocals made it my favorite city slicker backdrop. When I was pushing past crowds of manic Chinese people on the sticky sidewalk it gave me bursts of energy to get home. When I was strutting out to the nightclubs it gave me a dose of gritty goodness. Now I’m based in London, a considerably less populous and dirty city than Shanghai, but this album is still been my favorite go-to. Listening to the breathy vocals on “Deadcrush”, while walking to the tube feels like you’re inside the heartbeat of the metropolises, that your steps are feeding into the living breathing metropolis.
After settling into London for my last few classes in July and August I found myself once again struggling to enjoy my trip. The UK summer was cooler than I’d thought, and the constant dreary rain of July only seemed to add to the foreboding future of unknowns that lay ahead of my travels ending. To keep my chin up during this time of uncertainty, I’d walk the beautiful cobblestone streets of Kensington listening to English folk singer Vashti Bunyan. In particular, her earnest and melancholic song “Diamond Day” could always tint my perspective towards rose colored, a perspective that I was always grateful for at these low moments. Her entire 1970 album, Just Another Diamond Day, is worth a listen for those looking for a sweet folksy respite from the woes of modern life.
Although new music discoveries are fun while abroad, often it can be those familiar tunes that console us best. When I fell ill in China I eased my homesickness and physical ailment by watching The Royal Tenanbaums. The scene where Anderson plays the opening notes to “These Days” by Nico has made it one of my favorite songs. Perhaps it’s because it depicts both beauty and sadness during a reunion meeting, in a way that feels so familiar. Perhaps I love this song, and Anderson’s curated soundtracks while traveling abroad because that’s what I’m looking for in my travels – looking to notice the extraordinary moments shaded behind the ordinary moments buzzing all around me. For when you are a stranger in a strange land it feels much easier to notice these sentimental sparks of life all around.
Now that my return home is imminent, it’s clear that my Wanderlust playlist was an essential element of my journey. It contains many more songs than I’ve recounted above, but all of them share these themes of reflection and elation. As you take on various journeys this summer, I hope these songs brings you a new degree curated delight.
Music On My Mind 