Friday, July 16, 2004
Don't get me wrong...
Most of you have probably had the chance to be annoyed at hearing someone really fortunate complaining about their fortunate situations. In my senior year at high school, the prime example was the kid who threw a huge tantrum because s/he couldn't decide whether to accept their admission to Harvard or Princeton. Oh please, who wants to listen to that when you got rejected from both schools, or when you didn't get into any college at all? And what about the stereotypical genius who freaks out about getting an A- instead of an A, while others are struggling to get a passing grade in the same course?
Well, anyway, I think you get my point. So here's my thing. I love to travel. I've always wanted to travel more, more, and more. For me, not much compares to the excitement of seeing new places and new faces. There's something humbling about seeing worlds totally different than mine. It disorients me, confuses me, fascinates me, and helps me put my life into perspective (sometimes?). This year, it looks like my wish has come true. Or has it?
I kicked off the new year in a plane, flying from hot, sunny, warm Jamaica back home to the frozen, northern tundra of the USA. The way I spent new year's day seems to characterize this year because I've flown over 30 times since January 1st, 2004 (I stopped keeping track after I hit 30 sometime in June), and I still have a couple more flights lined up before 2005 rolls around. For a travel junkie like me, this should be heaven, right? Wrong! Obviously there's a difference between flying all over the place like a madman and actually taking the time to spend an enjoyable vacation where ever.
So here I am, probably for the first time in my life, complaining about traveling too much. I just got back from an intense rendez-vous with SoCal, which means that in the context of everything else going on, I'm definitely ready for 6 months of quiet and dullness at home.
But no, my grandparents and a cousin are visiting from overseas and they want to tour the whole country. So two days after getting back from California, I'm already gearing up to hit the road again. This time it's only a 3-day-weekend road trip to the Minnesota and Wisconsin shores of Lake Superior, which should be beautiful, but... well you know.
To their credit, they only "invited" me to join them--they didn't force me. And to my credit, I played all wishy-washy telling them I'd "think about it." But they have made sure to bring it up several times a day, and frankly they're leaving in less than a week. I don't quiet have the heart to brush off the last couple days I get to spend with them. They are from overseas, and it's not like I get to see them so often, and they are close family anyway.
So, I'm going to take a deep breath again, and pack my bags again, and let this blog fossilize a bit over the weekend again. Enjoy your weekend!
Well, anyway, I think you get my point. So here's my thing. I love to travel. I've always wanted to travel more, more, and more. For me, not much compares to the excitement of seeing new places and new faces. There's something humbling about seeing worlds totally different than mine. It disorients me, confuses me, fascinates me, and helps me put my life into perspective (sometimes?). This year, it looks like my wish has come true. Or has it?
I kicked off the new year in a plane, flying from hot, sunny, warm Jamaica back home to the frozen, northern tundra of the USA. The way I spent new year's day seems to characterize this year because I've flown over 30 times since January 1st, 2004 (I stopped keeping track after I hit 30 sometime in June), and I still have a couple more flights lined up before 2005 rolls around. For a travel junkie like me, this should be heaven, right? Wrong! Obviously there's a difference between flying all over the place like a madman and actually taking the time to spend an enjoyable vacation where ever.
So here I am, probably for the first time in my life, complaining about traveling too much. I just got back from an intense rendez-vous with SoCal, which means that in the context of everything else going on, I'm definitely ready for 6 months of quiet and dullness at home.
But no, my grandparents and a cousin are visiting from overseas and they want to tour the whole country. So two days after getting back from California, I'm already gearing up to hit the road again. This time it's only a 3-day-weekend road trip to the Minnesota and Wisconsin shores of Lake Superior, which should be beautiful, but... well you know.
To their credit, they only "invited" me to join them--they didn't force me. And to my credit, I played all wishy-washy telling them I'd "think about it." But they have made sure to bring it up several times a day, and frankly they're leaving in less than a week. I don't quiet have the heart to brush off the last couple days I get to spend with them. They are from overseas, and it's not like I get to see them so often, and they are close family anyway.
So, I'm going to take a deep breath again, and pack my bags again, and let this blog fossilize a bit over the weekend again. Enjoy your weekend!
