I remember writing, last year, about how I didn't think of myself as a traveler. I didn't as far as I was concerned suffer from wanderlust, or feel the need to up and leave on a wander around the country whenever the mood struck. And while I maintain that this is still true, my view on this has changed quite a bit.
I was talking to a friend's parents after our night out to see Jim Byrnes. They had just gotten back from a trip to the UK and we were chatting about that when her mom mentioned something that struck me. She said, quoting one of their group's guides, that a traveler, as opposed to a tourist, was someone who went somewhere to experience things, new things. They didn't go on vacation expecting the same comforts and experiences as the ones they had at home. I like this, I like it a lot, and I find that it fits me. It's not what I had first had in mind, but it certainly fits with the ideal of adventure I have so often equated with the image of a traveler. It also, much to my surprise fit me.
Up until this point, I had been so caught up in the idea of a world traveler, this epitome of a free spirit, that I'd never stopped to think of a traveler in varying degrees. Four years ago in Vancouver, Canada was the extent of my interest, outside of Eastern Seaboard. Last year, when I much to my surprise, and in all honesty a fair amount of disbelief, I found myself in the U.K., Europe was suddenly on the radar. Not all of it, not most of it, but some of it and that's more than I thought would ever appeal to me. Suddenly Spain and the Netherlands had a interesting glimmer that hadn't been there before.
I can't say that I buy it completely. I don't want to give up my day job to travel the world. I'm not overcome with a restless need to be somewhere, but I do crave new things. I love new places and new things, I crave the solitude and the sense of instant friendship how ever fleeting it may or may not be. I'm not looking to find some sort of grand understanding of the universe, I'm not looking to find myself, but I am looking for something new, a piece of the old and familiar in a place that's a little less so. In that sense, I can safely say I am a traveler.
It sounds weird to say it but it's true. It's addicting this traveling thing, the sense of exploration and wonder. I had thought perhaps I would give it up, but I can't say that I ever will, not completely. Some day when I'm a crazy crunchy cat lady with a huge yarn stash and too many books someone's going to have to come water my garden and feed my chickens so I can fly off to Edinburgh, or New Orleans, or Vancouver for a week or two.
I was talking to a friend's parents after our night out to see Jim Byrnes. They had just gotten back from a trip to the UK and we were chatting about that when her mom mentioned something that struck me. She said, quoting one of their group's guides, that a traveler, as opposed to a tourist, was someone who went somewhere to experience things, new things. They didn't go on vacation expecting the same comforts and experiences as the ones they had at home. I like this, I like it a lot, and I find that it fits me. It's not what I had first had in mind, but it certainly fits with the ideal of adventure I have so often equated with the image of a traveler. It also, much to my surprise fit me.
Up until this point, I had been so caught up in the idea of a world traveler, this epitome of a free spirit, that I'd never stopped to think of a traveler in varying degrees. Four years ago in Vancouver, Canada was the extent of my interest, outside of Eastern Seaboard. Last year, when I much to my surprise, and in all honesty a fair amount of disbelief, I found myself in the U.K., Europe was suddenly on the radar. Not all of it, not most of it, but some of it and that's more than I thought would ever appeal to me. Suddenly Spain and the Netherlands had a interesting glimmer that hadn't been there before.
I can't say that I buy it completely. I don't want to give up my day job to travel the world. I'm not overcome with a restless need to be somewhere, but I do crave new things. I love new places and new things, I crave the solitude and the sense of instant friendship how ever fleeting it may or may not be. I'm not looking to find some sort of grand understanding of the universe, I'm not looking to find myself, but I am looking for something new, a piece of the old and familiar in a place that's a little less so. In that sense, I can safely say I am a traveler.
It sounds weird to say it but it's true. It's addicting this traveling thing, the sense of exploration and wonder. I had thought perhaps I would give it up, but I can't say that I ever will, not completely. Some day when I'm a crazy crunchy cat lady with a huge yarn stash and too many books someone's going to have to come water my garden and feed my chickens so I can fly off to Edinburgh, or New Orleans, or Vancouver for a week or two.
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