I hope everybody had a wonderful holiday season! If you are reading this, I thank you so much for your support. I mostly write for fun – to document my life experiences, for myself and for the friends or family who are interested in knowing about any of it. But it always makes me happy to hear that someone has been keeping up on my blogs or that they enjoyed a recent post. I appreciate every single one of you!

Now, I know you subscribe to me to read about travel, but we’re discussing something a little different today: books. More specifically, why books are important. Books have remained influential to me for my whole life, and I believe books are among the best teachers on the planet (second only to firsthand travel). And books are a big reason why I live this current lifestyle.

I was lucky enough to visit home for a few weeks during the holidays, and I’m once again trying to figure out how to pack all the books I’d like to take with me. They can’t take up too much of my limited space or make me exceed my airport weight allowance. I’m thinking to myself, Why do I even do this? Just use a Kindle. Or get your face out of the book and enjoy your surroundings (which I do…).

This actually is a continual problem I face while backpacking. I don’t know how to carry all of my books. But I’m not willing to give them up. They’re just so heavy. And more importantly, how do I get more when I finish reading the ones I have? I’ve never met another backpacker who will lug around upwards of ten novels at a time just because. I struggle to pack them, and I struggle to move them when I have to switch locations.

So… why? Well, as I said, books are important to me. They always have been and always will be. Who am I if not a reader? I was that kid reading past bedtime with a flashlight. My mom, who is also an avid reader, keeps a book bin for me so I have my own personal selection of new ones to sift through when I come home. I enjoyed books all through high school, all through college. No matter how cool of a place I’m in, I will be bringing my book.

I’ve known since I was young that I was fated for something great. I just didn’t know what. But I wanted to travel, I wanted to see things, meet people, learn languages. Nobody in my immediate family has done anything like this, so for a long time I was stuck on how exactly to get here. I thought there was no other choice than, you know, the whole go to college, get a job, buy a house deal. 

When I was 17, my high school English teacher assigned us a book called Walden on Wheels by Ken Ilgunas. I was one of the kids who secretly loved getting reading for homework, but my immediate thought was Why can’t we read something normal? I don’t know. A classic or something. But as we dove into the book, my perspective on life broadened by miles.

Walden on Wheels is a memoir written by a guy who grew up in a town close to mine, and who also wanted to escape the scheme of college debt and 9-5 living. He writes about all sorts of antics, like living in a van to attend grad school, and moving to Alaska to basically work off-grid and pay off his loans as quickly as possible. I didn’t know you could just do things like that. And I never forgot it. I cherish my signed copy at home.

Throughout my college years, Walden on Wheels remained in the back of my mind. But I still felt stuck. I knew then that other people could do this, but I thought that maybe it’s just not the life that was meant for me. Senior year approached and I was steadily trying to ignore the idea that soon I’d have to go work in an office for the next five decades because I just spent my time getting a business degree. Until it suddenly clicked. 

I didn’t have to do that. Who told me I had to do that? Didn’t Walden on Wheels show me a completely different lifestyle? If he can do it, why can’t I do it, too? So the gears started turning. I still remember that lightbulb moment – that realization that maybe 17-year-old Emma wasn’t so off the mark after all.

Anyway, back to the problem at hand here. I could utilize a Kindle, and I probably will in the future because my book system is quite inefficient and a little stressful. But I have a problem with e-books. To me, nothing beats the smell of a book, the feel of the paper, the weight of holding one. I feel like I haven’t actually experienced a book until I’ve held it in my hands, thumbed through the pages. 

Books are entertainment when I’m bored and when I need to break out of doomscrolling. They’re comfort and stability when I’m overwhelmed by my ever-changing surroundings. Their weight in my backpack grounds me. They’re knowledge when I’m ignorant or uneducated. They’re inspiring when I know I should be productive but I just don’t feel like I have the mind for it. And honestly, they keep me company when I’m alone – my books sometimes do play the role of my friends.

I’m quite often sad that I can’t utilize my local library. It’s actually one of the things I miss the most about being at home. And besides, the library needs us right now. They’ve been dreadfully underfunded for decades, and it’s likely going to get worse. Libraries aren’t just a home for books – they’re a home for community and exchange. Really, you should go get a library card and rent books even if you don’t read them. It helps with their numbers.

When I see the cover of a book I loved, it takes me back to a certain period of my life. Or vice versa – when I’m feeling like I’m in a familiar situation (good or bad), I’m taken back to the book I was reading when I first experienced it. One of my favorite books has even inspired me to travel to somewhere I wouldn’t have otherwise gone to.

When I’m playing chess in a tea house in Istanbul, I’m thinking of Intermezzo and Ivan’s chess genius. As I’m walking through the Peles Castle in Romania, I can’t help but imagine it as the backdrop for The Secret History’s deranged events. I’m trying to remember Babel’s fundamentals when I meet a linguist in Turkey and she talks to me about her work. 

I entertained my slow life in Wadi Rum with The Count of Monte Cristo, a 1,200-page giant. I went out of my way to visit Dresden in Germany because it was the setting for Slaughterhouse-Five, one of my all-time favorites. One of my favorite volunteer houses I’ve stayed at was full of readers – we’d discuss books, swap books, and silently read books together while eating breakfast. 

So here I am again. I’m grateful I was gifted books for Christmas that I don’t know how to pack (plus, a Kindle after all). I wish I could leave my clothes behind and only bring all the books I want to read on buses, in hostels, and on park benches. Authors have provided me more than I could ever give back, but I hope one day – after I take more from life – I can give the world a book of my own.

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