Every day felt like a challenge, with a new route to plot, a new adventure to tackle. All these dangers, all these unknowns. There’s nothing like it.
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I always knew I loved trips like this, but I never knew why. That is, until recently, when I read about the theory of the “fun scale”, in which the experience of enjoyment is broken down into three different “types”.
Type 1 fun is something that you enjoy in the moment of doing it, and will later recall fondly. Type 2 fun, meanwhile, is challenging and maybe not exactly enjoyable at the time, but gratifying to look back on. And type 3 fun is not enjoyable while you’re doing it and not enjoyable in hindsight.
You can guess which type of enjoyment is said to be the most rewarding, particularly in the long term.
This is a scale that’s often mentioned by outdoorsy types, those who like to climb mountains and hike great distances and camp in the most remote, inaccessible places. It’s generally believed, particularly by those people, that type 2 is the sort of enjoyment we should all be seeking: experiences that challenge you, that test you, that give you a feeling of achievement, if not immediate, undiluted joy.
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These type 2 experiences increase your self-esteem, they give you perspective, allow you to learn more about your personal limits, strengthen your resilience and provide great memories.
I never realised it before, but I’ve been looking for type 2 travel experiences my whole life. Pretty much all my favourite travel memories have featured some sort of discomfort or challenge mixed in with pure fun.
All of those backpacking trips from way back in the day – there’s definitely hardship there. It’s uncomfortable. It’s work sometimes. The week-long scooter adventure I did with Jess around the Mekong Delta. The time I got up at 3am to climb a live volcano in Chile. The feeling of walking into Machu Picchu from the end of the Inca Trail. The three-month overland trip from Nairobi to Cape Town. Taking a six-month-old child to Spain to live there for a year.
This is why I’ve never been drawn to the idea of luxury being the pinnacle of the travel experience. Sure, I love a comfy bed, and I’m never going to turn down a killer, three Michelin star meal. But I also know that those aren’t the experiences I will look back on the most fondly, they’re not the ones that will change me, they’re not the most thrilling or rewarding.
For that, you need a challenge. You need at least a whiff of danger to your travel experience, at least some minor discomfort. You need monkeys stealing your rice, you need lions circling your campsite. It all sounds good in hindsight.