Travel is For the Weak…And I’m Frail
We are angry because we are overly optimistic, insufficiently prepared for the frustrations endemic to existence. A man who screams every time he loses his keys or is turned away at an airport is evincing a touching but recklessly naïve belief in a world in which keys never go astray and our travel plans are invariably assured. — Alain de Botton, A Week at the Airport
By Craig Wiroll — the worse half of the TravelTwerps
Recently, everyone’s favorite pretentious puffball, the New Yorker, published a piece entitled, “The Case Against Travel” by Agnes Callard (philosopher/writer/clown).
As someone who is in the middle of quitting their job with hopes of traveling worldwide for the next year (or more?!) — the title alone irked me in the exact, SEO-optimized, way it was meant to.
But it also got me into defensive mode — excited to justify why I actively choose to move my physical body from place-to-place.
In a world that becomes easier every day to remain stagnant — with VR headsets allowing us to visit seven continents in seven hours in stunning 8K resolution…we really are in a civil dispute of GO vs. STAY. Combine that with a COVID hangover and people are quite mixed.
Either you want to rebel against the confinement of 2020 — or you’ve forever adapted to it.
I myself have humble beginnings — in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. A medium-sized city on Lake Michigan in the United States Midwest. Not necessarily know for it’s high-brow culture as much as it’s known for: brats, beer, cheese curds, and toilet seats.
Travel for most people where I’m from consists of 4 options:
- Go “up north” to kill animals or cosplay as Henry David Thoreau (who I guess was also, himself, a bit of a cosplayer)
- Wisconsin Dells to visit “America’s Largest Waterpark” (why would anyone build that in a state that’s froze 9 months a year?)
- Six Flags Great America Theme Park in Suburban Chicago (my mom used to stuff my shoes so I’d be tall enough to get on rollercoasters at age 4)
- Florida to…be warm just to feel something
When “going to Florida” is how your people get cultured, you obviously have a poor foundation for travel, worldliness, or…life.
My family never talked fondly of travel or recounted any interesting stories aside from some old slides that lived in my attic. I think they were of my great-grandparents’ travels in Europe. I faintly remember, as a 3 or 4-year-old, the family gathering around to view those slides.
Therefore, the majority of my travel growing up came in the form of movies and TV shows. This obviously also lends a skewed, propagandous, perspective about what the world is like.
More on how I was raised by television due to having a busy working mom and no dad:
Unfortunately, television and movies perpetuate stereotypes — and in the 80s/90s/00s those were mostly pro-American🦅 and anti-anywhereelse.
Will I look anti-intellectual admitting that my main driver for wanting to visit (and get ENGAGED in) Hawaii was due to this masterpiece:
I honestly didn’t know I was allowed to travel until I met my first deep romantic partner at age 22 (shout-out to Courtney). A huge reason she was so interesting to me was because of her travel experience. She had been to deep rich cultural places I’d only heard of in books/movies — despite coming from a similar socio-economic status and background. Other than my foreign-exchange student friends up to that point in my life — my friends and their families didn’t travel for pleasure/intrigue (outside of clichéd North-Americanized Central-American resorts). It was an awakening — and truly an example of, “if you see it, you can be it”.
Although I wasn’t well-traveled as a child, I definitely was ever-curious. If I wasn’t glued to the television, or putting on a puppet show for my grandma, I was elbows deep in an abandoned television or VCR — disassembling it to get a close-up glimpse as to how it operated. This curiosity about how things work never faded, only now it has expanded beyond the VCR in my childhood home and out into the corners of this planet.
One riveting quote from the aforementioned New Yorker piece included:
“Travel is for those who cannot feel. . . . Only extreme poverty of the imagination justifies having to move around to feel.“ — Fernando Pessoa
I don’t entirely disagree with this. But I take my personal philosophy one step further: everyone is unfulfilled. To desire change makes you unsatisfied with your current state of existence. Think you feel content? Wrong.
If you’re so fulfilled — why do you want a new pet? A new shirt? A haircut? All those things will derail your current contented perfectly-crafted life. So, by partaking in almost any activity, you must secretly be unfulfilled.
But, I also believe fulfillment to be a mirage. Something fed to us by public relations firms. Do you think buying a house, getting married, or retiring will make you feel fulfilled? LOL! Those are just artificial save-points in the game of life.
So…to say the desire to uproot yourself is just proof of your inability to stay confidently seated…I say: fuck off. Being satisfied with your current state of things, to zenly “live in the now”, is akin to having a social and cultural lobotomy. (And if you truly, truly practice nonattachment and truly cling to no external stimuli…well…you wouldn’t be using a computer/internet, and most-definitely are not reading internet blog posts. And, although you will never see this, I do ultimately envy you.)
There’s a giant planet out there — and through I am vehemently anti-checklist travel (also — I don’t trust Americans who have seen more countries than they have seen cities in their own nation), I also don’t think dying in the same room you were born is admirable, brave, or interesting. Do I need to see every inch of this Earth? No, I don’t think I have that desire.
Would I like to see a great deal of it before my elder years so that I can have a first-hand worldview of a variety of cultures, climates, and structures (natural, manmade, and social) to help inform my thoughts and approaches to everyday life? Uhhh….yeah. That’d be quite nice.
Most of what I was fed as a child about what’s important in life turned out to be false — or at least overemphasized pride in things (profit/prestige/status) that I frankly do not value or find interesting at my current age. Therefore, when notable figures are referencing “shithole countries” and movies are portraying only the slums of deep, complex, vivacious cultures — there’s no way to build your own perception other than JUST GOING. Smelling the air, eating the cuisine, and walking and talking (or at least shrugging and laughing) with the locals.
Another gem from that purposefully-rage-inducing New Yorker article:
Although people like to talk about their travels, few of us like to listen to them. Such talk resembles academic writing and reports of dreams: forms of communication driven more by the needs of the producer than the consumer.
This is one of my first times talking about my travel in-depth on a public forum. Despite having some riveting, exciting, unique, and at times thrilling times living in Thailand/Cambodia helping to save elephants (@ Elephant Nature Park), trekking in the Himalayas, being held captive in Japan, being kicked out of the Peace Corps in Senegal West Africa, and traipsing around western Europe…
Not exactly sure why I’ve kept the majority of my travels private — or thought they were unworthy of sharing up to this point. They’ve been fantastical and, at times, have felt otherworldly. All these trips have given me tremendous insight into what’s important to me. And have allowed me to meet someone else who has gone outward to look inward my absolutely perfect fiancée Nikki — whose version of “why I travel” can be found here:
Despite people thinking I’m an extreme-extrovert (perhaps due to my dozens of television appearances) I am not someone who posts any of my private life on social media, and outside of a handful of people, I am not (really) known.
But…the hidden aspect my my journeys stops now — with the next year being the most public year of my life.
Travel Doesn’t Make You Interesting
The premise of the New Yorker story: going interesting places (or even less: desiring to go to interesting places) does not make you an interesting person. An obvious reductionist bowl of Kellogg’s Pointless Flakes. (But this is also someone who is dumb enough to go to a bird-abusing tourist trap despite having no interest in birds.)
So…out with Agnes Callard, the writer/philosopher of this trash piece, and in with Alain de Botton — 20-year-old-me’s favorite author. His books, The Art of Travel & A Week at the Airport, combine narrative, humor, and philosophy to assess the benefits and ills of travel — rather than reducing it to a fruitless activity for emotionally empty cowards.
de Botton discusses the internal challenges we experience as travelers — such as the micro-adaptations that occur from being hyper-aware of minute details, such as how newscasters dress in far-away countries compared to our local areas. Also how travel forces us to break and question our routines as humans.
It is not necessarily at home that we best encounter our true selves. The furniture insists that we cannot change because it does not; the domestic setting keeps us tethered to the person we are in ordinary life, who may not be who we essentially are. — Alain de Botton, The Art of Travel
I personally think I rank in the bottom 15% of routined-folks. I don’t have any two days that are the same or even resemble each other from my perspective. Different bedtimes, wake times, lunch times, meals, modes of transportation, routes of transportation, hobbies, media, and more. The only consistent thing is feeding the cats in the morning and at night and charging my phone. But, for most people, breaking these routines can be difficult.
Since nobody (I’ve met) analyzes their daily routines and confirms they are perfectly optimized for both happiness and efficiency — this is probably a good challenge.
Travel is less about paying someone to put a falcon on our gloved-arm, or even jumping off a cliff into freezing water — than it is about the conversations you have in line walking up the rocky side of the cliff you decide to leap from together. Less about eating a famous donut — more about how your manual-gear rental car that steers violently to the right crapped out on you, forcing you to hitchhike 35 miles on the back of a garbage truck just because you got scammed by some idiot pretending to be giving you genuine advice when, in reality, he was giving you directions to his parents’ crappy “restaurant” in the middle of nowhere. Or…happening upon random events — like a ceremony celebrating a prized-winning tuna fish:
Some would argue travel is like wearing a mask. It allows you to behave how you would if you were a bit anonymous. Is that a sign of personal weakness? That you don’t live fully authentically each and every day? Or…is it more of a commentary on the societal limitations of our place in cities — often choosing between our curated-selves (the profit-making, PR capitalist version) and our free-selves that shows up during travel (the version that says what they think, takes risks, and doesn’t worry about things like losing out on a promotion because our boss saw we like a sports team, band, or political view they don’t like — at it’s most innocent and pointless).
Traveling Responsibly
I wrote an academic research paper in grad school, while living in Thailand, about why voluntourism/ecotourism is mostly bullshit…and I still agree with that. Travel is resource-intensive. Paternalistic development projects and short-term volunteering isn’t going to offset the footprint created from these experiences. Rather, everyone should do their best to be respectful of the cultures they’re entering and attempt to do the least amount of destruction possible. The same morals and guidelines I think we should abide by in our own cities/hometowns. Beyond that: blame corporations & billionaires for the destruction of the world. Not middle-class travelers.
Travel is Life?
There have been times where my life was travel. I was never a flight attendant like Nikki, but I’ve been a part of several traveling volunteer programs in my life: AmeriCorps NCCC & Peace Corps.
My assigned country for the Peace Corps was Senegal, West Africa. A country I was excited to explore, as it was unlike anything I’d experienced up to that point in my life. I wanted to get engaged with the filmmaking scene in Dakar…only to learn the U.S. federal government barred us from traveling to Dakar while dedicating three years of our lives to service in the country due to…safety. Now, this was something they purposefully withheld from applicants during 6 months of applications, acceptance, and even the majority of training. Pretty disappointing/gross.
But, in the end, it didn’t matter for me. I entered the West Africa/Peace Corps in FEBRUARY 2020. I don’t know if you’re a big history buff…but that turns out the be the worst month of all-time to travel internationally — much-less dedicate the next several years of your life where you don’t speak the language, don’t have a hospital within hours, and live in a place where the concept of soap is nonexistent.
I applied to the Peace Corps while working as an Executive Director of an activism nonprofit in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. A good gig on paper in a great city, but in reality, an extremely messy, unpleasant, and toxic situation. I decided, in my one life to live, I wanted to be making a positive difference each and every day while learning and growing. What better way than to live with a host family in an area I knew little about while learning the culture, two new languages, and navigating the country (and continent of Africa). Exactly one month into uprooting my life, the dream was over:
This not only made me hopeless due to the global pandemic — I was jaded to the magic of travel. Months of planning, selling everything I own, quitting a decent job, and ending relationships left me with nothing. As I sat alone in my Airbnb in March 2020 after being expedited back to the US and forced to quarantine — I couldn’t sit still. I had three years of anticipatory energy built up within me. So I bought a new car and hit the road.
26,000+ miles, 4 vehicles, and a few years later: I finally stopped.
This wasn’t “good” travel. This travel was avoidance travel. I was running. Running from my problems, my troubles, my impatience, my newfound joblessness, homelessness, purposelessness, and loneliness. Trying to outrun a global pandemic that made us all STOP. Moving my body kept my mind from dwelling deep into the dark recesses it’s been prone to go since puberty: Depressionville, USA.
Did this avoidance travel “work”? Well, in hindsight, it was a net-negative experience — but some good things came of it. Although I lost a lot of money, was unable to establish quality long-term community and relationships (and got wrapped up in a couple toxic ones), and got into some unpleasant situations — I also started a new spiritual and mindfulness practice. Some that even involved “medicine”. As someone who avoided eating a piece of candy for 15 years, and as a former straight-edge, has never taken more than an ibuprofen — the idea of using drugs to expand my worldview and perspective was a gigantic deal. Along with my friends Alan Watts & Michael Pollen — I dove head-first into the world of psychedelic-assisted therapy — starting with deep-forest psilocybin therapy and, years later, Ayahuasca ceremonies.
Travel without leaving your seat or even opening your eyes.
This new form of travel has allowed me to process decades of experiences, journeys, and trauma in a way that has made me better — to myself and to others. It has also allowed me to regain a sense of excitement for life that I thought I left back in 1999. And for that, I am eternally grateful. I honestly feel like I have a second lease on life. I am thrilled I was able to overcome my own skepticism.
The Cost of Travel
Traveling can be expensive. My personal secret: I don’t mind being poor.
Money is a tool. A tool to help craft and live the life you want to live. Much like collecting 500 hammers you will never use, I don’t much enjoy hoarding money in a retirement or savings account. Saving for what? Retirement? LOL! Never doing that. (Retiring from…living a badass life where I travel? Why?)
But for real — I am a cheap (frugal if you wanna be polite) person and always have been. Most of my shirts are from 7th grade. If there’s free food at a work function, I’m stocking my fridge for at least a week (even if it means stuffing it into my pockets — which is why you should custom-line your pockets with plastic baggies in case this situation arises).
These little things, over time, make me way more money than compound interest would. They also allow me to live exactly how I want to live while I still have my body/mind to do so (something I am very-very aware will likely not always be true).
Reason to Travel: Learning About My Neighborhood->City->County->State->Country and Beyond
We are born ignorant. We explore our cribs and discover a loose screw in the corner that allows us to squeeze out the crack and out into the big room (a bedroom). Eventually, we explore the entire bedroom — including the old playing card that fell under our old bookcase in the 1970’s that has Farrah Fawcett’s perky boobie — and it’s time to explore the neighborhood.
And so on. And so forth.
Why does this desire to continue scaling up out of curiosity eventually die with some in the factory, classroom, boardroom, or when dropping the kids off at daycare?
If anything, I’d say that travel and exploration is our default — and to deny that status quo is an unnatural reaction to a constricted, manufactured life that has been fed to us in structured system that overvalues the procurement/upkeep of “things” (buying a $500,000 house is a must — and you should forgo travel and wasteful luxury items, such as eating at restaurants, to afford it. Also, a $60,000 SUV is necessary to protect your family and is a justifiable expense).
Pychologically — this trick isn’t isolated to just YOU. People inherently underestimate the value of spending money on expiences and overvalue spending on “things”.
So…my point is — let’s get back to those roots of escaping our little pens and seeing what’s all out there whenever possible.
My progressively bigger pens:
- Getting a Big Wheel at age 2.
- Getting a bike at age 4.
- Getting a faster bike at age 10.
- Getting a license/car at 16.
- Going off to college at 18.
- Moving to the West Coast at age 23.
- Living internationally at age 28.
Travel Stats (so far)
# of United States: 48 (sorry Alaska & Maine — I’ve been snoozing on you)
# of continents: 4 (have lived/worked on all four!)
# of times driven across the USA: lol idk over 20
Favorite trip: probably trekking in Nepal on Annapurna!
Favorite state: Oregon, USA
Favorite #AirBnb host: Tie between the guy squatting in a house, and then renting it to me in Amsterdam (the power got cut off and I woke up to authorities banging on the door) — and the elderly 80+ year-old woman in Chattanooga, TN who kept feeding me her “special drink” (Mountain Dew mixed with Walmart sherbet ice cream and…idk) and trying to sleep with me while her husband dazed off on his oxygen machine next to us (yes, I did go to a potluck church dinner with her to make up for rejecting her advances and not looking at the nudes she kept trying to show me).
TravelTwerps Goals
So what are my personal goals for the next year (+/-) of travel?
It may sound cocky, or perhaps dumb, but I don’t feel like I have much room to grow right now. I’ve been on what feels like a nonstop growth journey for the last 20 years — including formal/informal education, cooperative living, domestic/international travel, mindfulness retreats, self-help gurus/guides/texts, and more.
Despite all this — I do still contain some fears. They aren’t traditional fears like:
- What will I do for money?
- Did I live to my full potential?
- Can I buy a house?
- Do people like me?
- Does my family love me?
Mine are much more neurotic, pointless, and compulsive in nature. I won’t go into exactly what mine are — but if you find yourself fearing things in our world, that you know are corrupt or harmful, and research only backs up these fears — it’s hard to move through life with blinders on to care about small things like a scratch on your car.
I am not one to live with purposeful blindness — which has resulted in a life of mostly-soberness. Does it border on being to controlling of my own destiny? Oh…absolutely. I didn’t take a nap until I was like 35 out of fear of missing out on something during the daytime. I thank my wonderful grandma Jane for teaching me how to be scared of surrendering control for even a moment in life.
Combine that with a world that has become far too large to control — due to the power of multinational corporations, the decimation of the environment, and our crippling addiction to our phones and social media! 🥳 (sorry for contributing to that! BTW, don’t forget to subscribe to our YouTube & Instagram).
So that’s a big thing for this upcoming year of travel:
GOAL #1: Surrending control. Giving up literal control to things like the climate around me (goodbye AC) as well as a lot of figurative control.
GOAL #2: Preparing for Phase 6 — Paternal Guidance. I’ve wanted to be a father (or at least a mentor/big brother) since I was 5 years-old. I think once this travel concludes, I will have 95% of my life goals and ambitions complete outside of fatherhood. That sets me up pretty well to jump headfirst into starting a family with no reservations whatsoever. I’m getting old, in terms of parenting, but I’m happy having accomplished and seen a lot prior to having kids to not only impact whatever wisdom I may have gained over the years — but to also be able to give it 100% and never say something along the lines of, I wish I would’ve _____ before I had kids” and I honestly think I’m almost there.
Previous 5 phases: 1. diaper training/adolescence 2. teenage rebellion 3. spreading wings 4. professional excellence 5. completely lost & lonely (aka “mid-life soul-searching”)
GOAL #3: Self-employment skill-up. I hate working for other people. I’ve done it, out of necessity, but I’m not very good at it. It turns out I have a lot of good ideas! But every one can’t be a hit. I’m fine with personally taking the risks of trying my ideas that both work, and don’t work, and riding the waves. That’s called entrepreneurism. Investing in yourself. I’ve helped dozens (hundreds?) of entrepreneurs take chances and pursue their dreams over the years — but have never really taken a chance on my own. That time is now. I expect to expend ~90% of my personal (lowly) net worth during this next year — gaining skills in marketing, social media, video and content creation and production, editing, sales/leads, partnerships, and more. But I’m not scared. I trust in myself — and if I fail on my own terms, I’ll sleep just fine. I’d rather die in a box of my own creation than live in someone else’s that I don’t morally align with.
I also hope to find my audience this year. You are reading this — but as someone that has enjoyed writing and video production almost my entire life, I’ve never found “my people” en masse who genuinely enjoy what I’m creating. But I’ve also never adapted my work to appeal to the masses (and I don’t plan to). So, perhaps, this is the year. Maybe not — and perhaps that never happens…
Finding What Wasn’t Lost
Recently, while staying at an Airbnb, in an old city of mine, on a trip to see a band I’ve always loved (Fleet Foxes woo!) — Nikki and I broke out the guest backgammon board while sipping our morning coffee the day after the show (which was AMAZING — and Nikki won us front-row all-inclusive tickets thanks to her shuffleboard skillz).
While playing backgammon — I had a sudden realization. I’d only played backgammon one other time in my life (while living in a tent in a state park). This was a game that, in theory, I adore. I find it relaxing, stimulating, and want to learn/master it. Despite this desire, we have a backgammon board at home I’ve never come close to opening.
I don’t think this phenomenon stops at backgammon. Whether it’s partaking in an activity you never do in your day-to-day life or wearing a piece of clothing you’re perhaps too embarrassed to wear in your home community or neighborhood — travel allows us the opportunity to cosplay, take risks, and live slightly askew to our normal day-to-day operations.
Maybe you’re usually vegetarian but decide, visiting a meat-heavy-diet country, that you’re going to break your 12-year meatless streak because you: 1. want to embrace the local culture and way of life, 2. respect the local ethics of the meat processing that is the antithesis of the factory farming animal-industrial complex, or 3. just want to do something different for once.
That’s the power of travel! I believe in grooves, and ruts, and patterns. Sometimes these grooves can lead us to be, “more efficient” and help us get through our day-to-day or even auto-pilot mundane, but necessary, tasks like our morning routine, doing the dishes, or driving on a boring road to a boring job. But, for the most part, I think this auto-pilot grooviness is detrimental to our ability to live in the moment and enjoy each and every day. If our life, after awhile, becomes autofilled like a self-learning Google search box — then what’s the point?
Travel can help reset our metaphorical cache. And, although that’s annoying when we forget the login info for our bank account — it’s probably best to ward off complacency, dissociation, and maybe even dementia.
Avoiding “Real Life”
What do I want most in life? What have I wanted since I was 4 or 5-years-old? A family. Kids. A loving partner.
Traveling is thought to be the antithesis of these things. So why would someone who wants those be dedicating the next year or more to nonstop travel?
Good question.
The COVID pandemic taught me a very valuable lesson. Knowing I was getting kicked out of Senegal, West Africa in March 2020 and heading back stateside without a partner was devastating. I envied even the couples who were at each other’s throats and driving one-another crazy. I would’ve given anything for that. Instead, I’d sit in the back of my Subaru Outback at night swiping on dating apps and fantasizing about a COVID lockdown with someone I love, trust, and wanted to build memories with.
It’s hard to have it all. Adventure/stability. Routine/spontaneity. But I think Nikki and I are doing that, have that, and are further exploring it with the TravelTwerps.
Excited to see what is to come!
The End of the Road
Traveling isn’t not exhausting. Some people enjoy the planning aspect, to help them have something to look forward to and avoid their daily life. I don’t do much trip planning…so…that’s not the tiring part. I think the tiredness comes from constantly being “on”.
While the brain represents just 2% of a person’s total body weight, it accounts for 20% of the body’s energy use, Raichle’s research has found. That means during a typical day, a person uses about 320 calories just to think. — https://time.com/5400025/does-thinking-burn-calories/
I imagine being in a geographically-unfamiliar landscape, around unknown dangers and wildlife, attempting to translate language and mentally converting currency, while oftentimes not knowing where you’ll be sleeping that night burns a more-than-average amount of calories.
So…after an extended period of living in this fight-or-flight mode — you eventually need/desire a sabbatical from your sabbatical.
My personal experience has not been that traveling around the country is broadening or relaxing, or that radical changes in place and context have a salutary effect, but rather that intranational tourism is radically constricting, and humbling in the hardest way — hostile to my fantasy of being a real individual, of living somehow outside and above it all. — David Foster Wallace, Consider the Lobster and Other Essays
I think that is an argument AGAINST fast-travel or a constant year of travel. But, we have our reasons for deciding to go all-in at this time in our lives. We realize it will be more exhausting than rewarding at times. We also don’t plan to travel this way for the rest of our lives and it will probably give us plenty of blogging fodder about why this is such an unsustinable way to travel/live long-term. We’re happy to experiment on your behalf.
Assuming we survive, and travel for an extended period as we intend to, we hope you’ll be along for the ride (and beyond). Thanks for joining us — the more the merrier — and please tell your friends to also come along.
Nikki and I have spent large portions of our lives doing things that have felt inauthentic, unfulfilling, and emotionally draining in order to fit into societal expectations and this is another chance for us to break out and live authentically.
At best: We hope it inspires you to do the same — to quit what doesn’t fulfill you and dive head-first into a fully authentic life.
At worst: We hope to show you what NOT to do and allow you to laugh at our stupid mistakes.
Either way: happy to have you along for the journey. Welcome! Please leave any and all suggestions in the comments as well as pitches for us to sponsor your stupid and pointless products!
Why I travel: because I’m a naturally-curious person and, right now, with my freedom, healthy body, & healthy brain: I can.*
(and even if everything goes wrong, I lose a limb or two, get scammed, get hurt, get lost, or get robbed — I’ll be with the love of my life and it will all be okay).
Craig Wiroll is a ding dong daddy from Dumas & frozen custard aficionado from the Midwest. He is the author of 26 unpublished books that mysteriously burned in a barn fire in 2014. He is a has-been a reality television “star”, game show failure, Asian elephant rehabilitator, waterfall repairman, two-time garlic eating champion, and also worked at Pizza Hut and The White House.
He lives with his cat Dr. Dentist and his lovely /strange partner Nikki — oftentimes out of the back of his 2005 Saturn VUE.
TravelTwerps.com
Wiroll.com
Wiroll.medium.com
Linkedin.com/in/wiroll
