I lived in 12 houses, 4 apartments, 1 back-room, and 1 motel as a child. The constant flux was partially a product of my mother’s unusually adventurous spirit, and partially the product of financial necessity born of a prolonged divorce with my estranged father. My itinerant childhood made me grow up reinterpreting my life in various circumstances, and it was only fitting that as an adult I turned to travel to shape new perspectives.
In the summer of 2010, I traveled to Galway, Ireland for a summer course. At its completion, I purchased a bicycle and a heavily waterproofed, single-man tent and began a solo-cycling trip up the west coast of Ireland. That month of camping and cycling gave me the confidence to pursue a longer and more intense solo trip two years later: just weeks after graduation, I flew from Los Angeles to Seville to begin a four-month backpacking trip through Morocco, Western Europe, the Baltics, and the Balkans.
In Portugal I picked up a two-week job at the Quinta da Horta, a naturist lodge in the small fishing town of Ferragudo. After what I thought was a rather liberal upbringing, the experience initially exceeded even my broad comfort zone. Those who visited the lodge were all naturists in the truest sense: eschewing clothing whenever possible, eating from the garden, and participating in all activities communally. While my time as a naturist is likely limited to those two weeks in Ferragudo, the welcoming attitude of the people I met there allowed me to appreciate a different lifestyle than any I’d ever encountered.
My travels ran the full-length of the conservative-liberal spectrum. As a single female traveling in Morocco, I learned to reference an imaginary husband early and often. In northern Morocco, my Spanish skills let me communicate with locals, but it was not until I befriended an Arabic-speaking French man that I was afforded access to tea shops — a realm normally limited to men. In Albania, a Kosovar man helped me navigate the shanty bus system. As we travelled from Tirana to Berat, he spoke openly about his frustrations as a citizen of a country unrecognized as independent by many across the globe. My identity as a white American meant that I was ascribed certain privileges he was not, including the ability to travel freely across borders. While I was aware of both my limits as a single female and my expansive privileges as an American, I became more attuned to the complexity of my identity with each interaction.
Foreign contexts remind us that our best resource for questioning our inherently limited opinions is often another person. As a solo traveler, learning about and befriending those around you is often a necessity, and differing world views become a unifying talking point rather than a divisive issue. Just as travel has fostered reinterpretation of my own identity and circumstances, I know that the varied perspectives of my peers and professors will challenge and mold my approach to the law. As a student at XYZ, I too will bring my unique background to the classroom, contributing to an academic environment in which we continually push for the questioning of our biases.