Nectar of the travelling gods

The world is currently a rapidly changing landscape. It has become the embodiment of humanity’s own identity crisis. There are always going to be teething problems when you go through a period of metamorphosis, and clearly we are suffering from growing pains. Perhaps this chaotic escalation is best represented by the current trend of governmental bodies implementing specific laws to curtail wild behaviour in notoriously relaxed parts of the world.

Drunk and disorderly behaviour abroad is as synonymous with the human condition as throwing rocks at the girl you like in primary school, or loving fried halloumi. Unfortunately though, this behaviour could be going the way of the dodo and Nicholas Cage’s career.

Contrary to popular belief, society is not built on democracy. It’s built on our need to drown ourselves in as much alcohol as physically possible in order to go out and achieve great things. The Great Pyramids are clearly the work of drunken idiots who thought they had come up with a great idea after a couple of beers. Shakespeare created upwards of 10,000 new words that people had never heard before, I knock that out in a big weekend of blurred drunk texting. Cleary alcohol was involved for him too. Even our species migration out of Africa, where our love of travelling first started, involved a couple of ‘piss ups’ too.

Whether it’s inventing calculus or simply asking a girl out, alcohol is the key ingredient. The delicious tonics are also central to the travelling experience. With the rare ability of providing an equilibrium for individuals that might not even share the same language, alcohol is surely the nectar of the travelling gods. It’s a uniting force than brings all those on the road together.

Over time particular hotspots have arisen where the blatant abuse of alcohol is encouraged, and they have become party meccas for those trying to squeeze the most out of a life that gives them lemons.

However, recent times have seen a wave of conservatism try and deny our basic human rights to rock and roll all night and party every day. Some of the hottest party spots around the globe have had new laws introduced that directly intervene with the traveller’s journey to discover the place in the universe at the bottom of a glass. It might lack the finesse of catching a sunrise on a secluded beach but nothing quite says ‘living’ like sucking 70 ml of vodka out of a complete stranger’s belly button. The poetry of life isnt just something that is written on a piece of paper, its an intricate moment that unites two people in a passing instant in time.

Places like Hvar in Croatia and Magaluf in Spain have become temples to the travel gods, where backpackers can pay homage by launching into and annihilating as much alcohol as their failing bodies can take before engaging in behaviors that wouldn’t be out of place in an episode of Big Brother Uplate. Sure it’s not attractive, neither was the 90s, but I think we all agree we are better people as a result.

Unfortunately these great escapes have been crippled by a crusade against the free, the result of a population that lacks an identity. Other great party areas around the globe have introduced similar laws, all targeting behaviours associated with the ideals that the common backpacker holds dear.

Yes times are tough, but surely a world where I can get absolutely blackout drunk, take all my clothes off and pass out in a pool of my own vomit is a world worth fighting for. If not for ourselves as travellers, then let us do it for Shakespeare.

Who knows where the future will take us, but let’s hope that the nectar of the travelling gods continues to ignite the passions of travellers around the world and be the serum of humanity’s greatest endeavours.