In llama-land there's a one-man band

I need to travel.

Now.

I know, I realize that I was in Puerto Rico less than one month ago. It was amazing, and wonderful, and better than I could have imagined. Seriously, it was perfection. We got to romp through the rainforest, encountering massive lizards that prompted a number of Jurassic Park references. We saw new species of flowers and trees, and wildlife we’d never seen before. We made the most of our time relaxing at the pool, splashing in the waves at the beach, and taking long walks to enjoy the beauty of the northern coast. It was exciting and relaxing, and everything we wanted it to be.  

Nevertheless, in the past few days, I’ve felt the need to get moving. I have that antsy feeling of staying in one place and needing to go on an adventure. Maybe it’s because I just watched Gattaca again. That movies always kicks up my urgent need to travel. I totally get why Vincent needed to go into space. Because it’s there.

Last week, I had a dream that my husband surprised me with a trip to any country of my choice on the west coast of Africa. He unrolled this ridiculously outdated map that looked like a prop for a kid’s movie about finding hidden treasure, and told me to pick any country I wanted. It was a very detailed dream, one of those where you genuinely forget you are dreaming and it feels completely real. As always when I have these dreams, I woke up disoriented, wondering how I wound up in my room when I was just on a train. Then I become deflated upon realizing my adventure was only a dream.
I know this is difficult for people who weren’t born with congenital travel-itis to understand, and that it may seem silly. When expressing my need to travel to some people, I am met with the responses “Hey, who wouldn’t? I’d love to travel more, too,” or “Ugh, traveling is such a pain and so expensive!” It isn’t a hobby for me, it’s not just something I do because I have some vacation time saved up I need to burn. It’s not just for leisure, so that I can check a place off a list to say “well, I’ve been there!”  It’s not that I have a specific place I want to travel, or that I am being extravagant or impractical. I just feel the need to be somewhere. I need to learn new customs, see how people dress, hear the music that’s popular in that region, try new foods, encounter things I never even knew existed. It’s an ache to immerse myself, to come as close to I can, without living there, to understanding the character of a place, to really feel like I know a place, and that I am no longer a stranger there.
Nevertheless, in the past few days, I’ve felt the need to get moving. I have that antsy feeling of staying in one place and needing to go on an adventure. Maybe it’s because I just watched Everyone has something they feel this passionate about. Some people I know always need the newest technology, the newest camera/phone/tv/computer, operating system, whatever, because that is what they are driven toward. I get it. Me, well, I would rather travel than have a new phone. I can do without the newest phone, because travel, to me, has more value. Travelling creates unique memories that only you will ever have. It’s special. You’ll taste foods you can never recreate, you’ll hear songs you won’t be able to find when you get home, you’ll see something so hilarious or peculiar that no matter how well you describe it to someone, you know can never be fully explained.

And later, when you flip through the pages of a photo album, or unexpectedly hear a specific song or smell a particular scent, it will remind you of that time. You can always look back and think about that trip;  the memories can transport you back to a specific moment in a specific place, and when that happens, it’s such a thrilling rush of emotions. I love talking to people after they’ve returned from a trip. I love hearing them explain what they saw, did, tasted, heard, smelled, loved, hated, who they met, what they talked about, what surprised them. I love talking travel, because just hearing about other people’s trips makes me so excited for them, so happy for them that they got to form those new memories.
For some people, like my mother, this is completely incomprehensible. She has never left the continent, and not only has no interest in doing so, she’s hostile to the very idea. When I was young I would scour the travel section of the Washington Post, clipping out articles on the best restaurants in Prague or the must-see castles in Germany, adding them to my ever growing binder. She thought I was crazy, and declared many times that she has less than zero desire to see the world. She doesn’t want new experiences, she doesn’t care about other cultures, she is indifferent to the sounds of other languages being spoken, the smells, the feeling of history both recent and ancient, walking through museums and parks, shopping in a local grocery store or market and observing the similarities and differences with your own, how the ocean has different colors and characteristics, how the breeze feels, the way the sunlight hits, moonlight falls, the scope of the horizon, the feeling of new ground beneath your feet, and how the stars shine differently and the visibility of constellations vary everywhere you go.
Everyone has something they feel this passionate about. Some people I know always need the newest technology, the newest camera/phone/tv/computer, operating system, whatever, because that is what they are driven toward. I get it. Me, well, I would rather travel than have a new phone. I can do without the newest phone, because travel, to me, has more value. Traveling creates unique memories that only you will ever have. It’s special. You’ll taste foods you can never recreate, you’ll hear songs you won’t be able to find when you get home, you’ll see something so hilarious or peculiar that no matter how well you describe it to someone, you know can never be fully explained.

 And later, when you flip through the pages of a photo album, or unexpectedly hear a specific song or smell a particular scent, it will remind you of that time. You can always look back and think about that trip;  the memories can transport you back to a specific moment in a specific place, and when that happens, it’s such a thrilling rush of emotions. I love talking to people after they’ve returned from a trip. I love hearing them explain what they saw, did, tasted, heard, smelled, loved, hated, who they met, what they talked about, what surprised them. I love talking travel, because just hearing about other people’s trips makes me so excited for them, so happy for them that they got to form those new memories.Some people don’t see why anyone would ever need to leave their corner of the world, which is absolutely fine, but it’s not me. It’s not a reflection on my level of contentment in my current situation, as I love where I live and life is better than good. It’s just a strong urge that seeps into my bones and my veins, and it won’t go away until it’s satisfied. I’m not trying to get away, in fact, I want to take everyone with me. In fact, the only thing better than traveling is sharing it with someone. It creates a bond that, even if you never see those people again, exists through your shared experience. I always feel closer with someone once we’ve travelled together. It’s not that I want people to indulge my love of travel, it’s that I want to share in an experience with them.

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I don’t need to travel internationally. Even going to a new town for a day, or a town I haven’t been to in a long time will do it. So over the next few months I am going to try to make a point of getting away, even just for one day.