Thursday, May 20, 2010


I am happy to say I know a lot of people who travel. I am happy that many of them are traveling this summer. Seizing their fresh-out-of-college opportunities and just GOING. I am happy that they can and that they are excited, bursting to fly off to a different place, a different culture, and different memories.

I am not happy that I'm still-here.

I have been practical person for most of my life, which is a bit of contradiction because emotionally, I'm wildly reckless and daring. But in the reality of my day-to-day life and finances, I am safe.

During my undergrad the thought of studying aboard never even settled in my mind. My parents, bless their souls, paid for my degree in whole. I left college debt-free, which I know matters more than any European excursion but still-what's life without its experiences, its adventures? There's a part of me that wished I would have worked harder, found financial aid or a scholarship, to put me out there with the rest: traveling and SEEing.

What irks me the most is my limited perspective. However, I must thank my books (all hundreds of them) for helping be push the boundaries of my mind when traveling could not. But the book is still limited in the imagination. There's nothing like seeing the Pyramids or the Effiel Tower in person: 4-D.

The last time I was aboard, I was incredibly blessed to be doing what I loved: theater. My high school theater department applied and was accepted to perform at the Edinburgh International Theater Festival. Wow. The trip took hard work in raising funds to have half the trip paid. We performed "The Complete Works of William Shakespeare" and we were there, in Scotland. It was amazing. I rolled down a Scottish hill. I shopped at a thrift store: real italian leather clutch for a steal. I walked on cobblestone. I ate way too many carbs. I traveled with my second family.

Almost 5 years has passed since that trip and I'm restless. I want Greece, I want Paris, I want Italy (ALL of Italy), I want more London, I want Spain, I want Ireland. I'm an oppressed glutton-ist for travel.

I know someone going to France, someone going to Israel and Australia, I know someone that lived In New Zealand for a year and half, someone who went to New Zealand for 4 months, someone who got their master's in Australia, another studying for year in Australia, two people who study in Oxford, another adventuring in Costa Rica and studying in Spain.

Trust me, I feel really cool that I'm in company with such ambitious travelers, but because of knowing, I am constantly reminded: my feet are firmly planted to the ground-San Diego, CA 92115.

In an ideal world. I would be heading to Greece right now. Writing with a clear ocean blue in front of me and white-washed rooftops behind me. I would have such a dark brown tan when I came back that tanning salons would shrivel in its presence. Take that fake rays. This tan has true character!

But I'm waiting. Waiting to get a job or an education. L.A. or New York. Yeah, New York came calling again. Long story short-I was referred to another Master's Program through NYU. Limbo my home for another handful of weeks. Oi vey.

I'm older now and know I need to uproot myself, my damn planted feet. I know, as a writer, I need to see more. Feel it and smell it. Taste it. Food is amongst one of my highest passions, but in order to evolve what I love, I must do it justice. My life needs a double serving. Heaps of Italy mixed with Florence, Venice, and Naples, a side of Spain and live Spanish guitarists, and a large cocktail of Greece (stirred-not shaken). I need to sit down one day and enjoy my meal. Happily swinging my feet back and forth, because I'm sitting-relaxing.

Feeling high above the ground and lifting off.


Kristiana said...

I feel your pain, dear. I will travel with you -- summer 2011! That's my plan :)

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