The World is Your Oyster
I've been around the world and I, I, I... want more! I've had the travel bug for as long as I can remember. I still love the idea that a road can lead from New York to California, and getting my driver's license was the start of finding the freedom that I thirsted for. The freedom of sand on my feet, wind in my hair, a couple of dollars in my pocket. I relished the idea of a road trip somewhere new, getting lost a highlight rather than a disruption.
My desire to travel had been piqued long before that, though, when a second cousin, whom I really didn't know that well, sent me a postcard from Paris. I kept that hanging by my bed, the edges frayed from me toying with it while I stared at it, hoping to one day go myself, Paris seeming so far away for a little girl from the country. In my home, vacations equaled getting in the car and driving, to Cape Cod, to New Jersey, even to Florida. We did not fly anywhere. We couldn't afford to. Instead, my mother would wake us early, early morning, the day we were departing, sometimes without us even knowing we were going (she didn't want us to get overly excited and unruly during the weeks leading up to our vacation, I suppose) and we would get into a stuffed car and watch the sun rise as we traveled to our destination. I loved watching the road roll on by, knowing we would soon be at the beach for a week of vacation that, as a child, felt like a month.
The day finally came when I was offered the opportunity to take a business trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. I did not care about receiving the training that I was being asked to get, but I jumped at the chance and flew, for the first time, and by myself, to a far-off land. I toured the city, met some new people and enjoyed a quaint little room in a bed and breakfast. Solo. Happy. I came back knowing that my journey had just begun.
After that, a joint trip to London and a tour of Ireland with a close girlfriend. A solo trip to Amsterdam before heading back to England to attend a wedding of the woman responsible for sending me off to Scotland. A trip with a girlfriend to Italy. Various jaunts to the Caribbean. The trip of a lifetime with another close friend to Japan. And then my husband came along. Trips with him to Paris (at long last), Spain, Portugal. I think of the places we'll go and I get excited. It is my lifelong dream to see as much of the world as I can before I die. It's an unquenchable thirst that I have, documented vigorously with scrapbooks and albums that I look over from time to time when I am about to embark on another journey.
Now, because of that Paris postcard, I send my niece and nephews postcards from wherever I go, trying to show them that the world is theirs and is bigger than their backyard, but not as big as it appears. Go. See. Come back home. And do it again.
My desire to travel had been piqued long before that, though, when a second cousin, whom I really didn't know that well, sent me a postcard from Paris. I kept that hanging by my bed, the edges frayed from me toying with it while I stared at it, hoping to one day go myself, Paris seeming so far away for a little girl from the country. In my home, vacations equaled getting in the car and driving, to Cape Cod, to New Jersey, even to Florida. We did not fly anywhere. We couldn't afford to. Instead, my mother would wake us early, early morning, the day we were departing, sometimes without us even knowing we were going (she didn't want us to get overly excited and unruly during the weeks leading up to our vacation, I suppose) and we would get into a stuffed car and watch the sun rise as we traveled to our destination. I loved watching the road roll on by, knowing we would soon be at the beach for a week of vacation that, as a child, felt like a month.
The day finally came when I was offered the opportunity to take a business trip to Edinburgh, Scotland. I did not care about receiving the training that I was being asked to get, but I jumped at the chance and flew, for the first time, and by myself, to a far-off land. I toured the city, met some new people and enjoyed a quaint little room in a bed and breakfast. Solo. Happy. I came back knowing that my journey had just begun.
After that, a joint trip to London and a tour of Ireland with a close girlfriend. A solo trip to Amsterdam before heading back to England to attend a wedding of the woman responsible for sending me off to Scotland. A trip with a girlfriend to Italy. Various jaunts to the Caribbean. The trip of a lifetime with another close friend to Japan. And then my husband came along. Trips with him to Paris (at long last), Spain, Portugal. I think of the places we'll go and I get excited. It is my lifelong dream to see as much of the world as I can before I die. It's an unquenchable thirst that I have, documented vigorously with scrapbooks and albums that I look over from time to time when I am about to embark on another journey.
Now, because of that Paris postcard, I send my niece and nephews postcards from wherever I go, trying to show them that the world is theirs and is bigger than their backyard, but not as big as it appears. Go. See. Come back home. And do it again.
posted by Tracy at 7:08 AM
1 Comments:
With all the things that have recently changed in my life, I no longer have anything holding me down to where I currently am. Combine that with a severe distaste for my job, and a little extra cash from selling off that house...
I want so badly to travel around Europe and eastern Asia/Japan. Sometime this summer or early fall I'll strike out to see as much of it as I can.
And it will be the first time I've traveled alone. Kinda nervous, but so liberating at the same time!
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