One might think that being stricken with acute wanderlust is something to envy; however, as the host of this deep yearning, acquired through generations of my family traveling the earth and a childhood steeped in outdoor adventure, this need to fulfill my travel itch can sometimes feel like an addiction that consumes each thought.
I’ve always thought that the anticipation and planning for a trip was half the fun, yet conversely, my experiences have taught me that it is those moments of spontaneity where the wonders of the world have unveiled themselves.
I have come to believe that it is a conscious act to open oneself to opportunities that transcend any plan one might have for oneself.
Nevertheless, I find myself obsessing with the details of our route, where we’ll go when, and how we’ll get there.
The pragmatist in me spends time daily perusing the classified ads on websites for a camper van that will serve our family of three in the most efficient and budget-friendly way. Do we buy in the United States and ship our “rig” to the UK, or do we buy there and hassle with registering, insuring, and paying taxes on a van without a having a local address?
The laminated world map hanging up in our bedroom bears a rainbow of marks designating past trips and the thick line of a dream. Alas, this addiction is easier to tame than some . . . planning our expedition staves off the beast, but I suspect that true fulfillment is when the plan is forgotten and my mind is open to the possibilities.
-by Tammy, photo by Mali