We are leaving for Hawaii on Friday, and while I'm unbelievably excited & grateful to be taking this trip with Tim & Boo, I can't help feeling a little nostalgic for the old days of travel. The days where the goal of visiting all 7 continents before age 40 was actually within reach. We haven't left the country, in, what, 5 years? (Oh my god, can that really be true?) No wonder I'm becoming all numb and ethnocentric and "U-S-A!" like.
Yes, I am still a travel snob at heart.
I need culture. I need menus that aren't in English. I need walking all around a new city, miles and miles, just because it's fun or I'm lost. I need mispronouncing words to the locals and being laughed at by food truck workers. I need beaches and mountains and smoggy cities. I need dogs running around in places they most certainly should not be running. I need museums and monuments and all of the wonders of the world. I need hanging on so tight to my purse so a guy on a moto doesn't snatch it off me. I need rickshaw drivers taking me to shady sex shows that I (probably) did not request. I need color and vibrance. I need sketchy, but oh-so-delicious street food and questionable "burgers". I need boarding passes and carry-ons. I need sleep deprivation and jet lag. I need dirty hair and dirty clothes and a make-up-free face. I need drinking local beer and eating lobster with my hands on the beach. I need dancing and hiking and bungy-jumping and cliff-diving and tandem-biking and glacier-walking and zip-lining and thrill-seeking and adreneline-running. I need to be that person I am when I travel all of the time.
I need to go away. Now.