I don’t like to say I’ve traveled the world, even though I guess I have. This all happened two summers ago. And when I talk about that summer I usually hear myself refer to it as “the summer I did some traveling.”
A couple times when it’s come up in conversation and one of my friends would say that I’ve traveled the world, I chimed in with the correction “a little.”
Because, you know, traveling the world is, like, a big thing. You can’t just go to one city in Argentina (Buenos Aires) and say you’ve traveled in Argentina. You can say you’ve been there, but “traveling” somewhere is a whole other level. To me, it’s exploring, getting lost, going to places you love and those you come to realize you don’t love. It’s being bored, killing time, being silent and being loud. Meeting people, not meeting people, eating, or not being able afford to (flashback to New Zealand wherein I subsisted on pumpkin soup packets and usually made my first impressions at hostels as the girl who was unpacking a quarter of a pumpkin from her pack ‘cause it was the cheapest vegetable available).
So, I’m not comfortable saying I’ve traveled the world. I feel like that’s cheating. Yes I’ve done some exploring in Argentina, spent a day in both Uruguay and Switzerland, became too enraptured by France, poked around Australia and New Zealand, and spent a summer in China, but by no means have I traveled the world. Plus, it makes me sound way cooler than I actually am or will ever be and that’s just plain deception.
Earlier today, it was brought to my attention that I need not an invitation to write. I must simply write. So, I will. And I will for no one in particular. This collection I am starting is an outlet and I will fill it with my mind as best as I know how to translate that into words.
I love the morning time and will usually fight through whatever repercussions the previous night may have incurred so I can be the first up, breathe some fresh air, and eat my breakfast in peace. So, I imagine I’ll be writing most of these in the morning some time shortly after coming back from my 20-mile morning bike ride. (Currently training for a slice-of-the-west-coast tour this coming summer and blogging about that over at lilyandbike.com.) Otherwise — shoot, I don’t know — they’ll probably be posted at some obscure hour of the night, during recuperation from a food coma or transcribed from stuff I’d handwritten at some other technologically-inaccessible time of the day. Regardless, I will write. I will write every day.