In 2008, I quit my corporate job, sold off everything I owned and moved overseas with my husband Drew. Since then we've traveled around the world, started our careers over as creative types and nurtured our love of sleeping in late. Oh and we had a baby. Cole, our almost 2 year old has been traveling since he was four months old and probably knows more Thai than me (not that he brags).
Falling in Love with Travel
Author’s Note: I wrote this last September, but never published it. I thought you guys might like, so here it is. Felt like I need something light-hearted after the last two posts. Enjoy.
I used to crush on Travel. Lately it’s gotten a little more serious. It started out as an innocent infatuation. I would catch myself thinking about two week trips to Thailand or a month in South America between jobs. I’d fantasize about running away with Travel. Sometimes, when even I was with Work, I’d really be thinking about Travel. I had a problem.
One day I broke up with my Job and starting stalking Travel full-time. We moved in together. I wanted to say it was just a casual thing, but I knew better. I couldn’t imagine my life without it. I was addicted. But just like any great love affair, I started to notice some kinks. That plane delay? The hostel from hell? Sleeping at the train station while I waited 4 hours for the next crowded, sweaty train? I wondered what happened. This wasn’t the Travel that I fallen in love with– things had changed. Had Travel let itself go?
But it was me. I was starting to see the little imperfections, the things inanate in Travel that I had glossed over in the early stages of our relationship. And I had changed too. The magic, the excitement, the thrill of seeing a place for the first time, well it faded. Maybe I needed to put in more of an effort? Should I get a new haircut? Some sexy new lingere? A Dr. Phil book?
Then something strange happened. I started to accept travel for what it was. A pain in the ass at times, sure, but also there is something beautiful in the small moments that make it worth while. The waiter who jokes with me and tells me that their smallest beer is 10 liters. The couple who sit next to me at the festival and tell me about their RTW trip. The transcendental tiramisu at a cafe in Bologna. Reading a book next to the Aegian sea on a perfect afternoon. Yes travel could get on my nerves, but it was also getting under my skin. Could it be something more important than seeing sights and checking off countries? Was Travel showing me something bigger about the world than the nearest UNESCO site?
So now, I’m content and comfortable with Travel. It has a wicked sense of humor and a big heart too. Maybe, if I’m lucky, we’ll grow old together.