My Eyes Were Opened…
… when I was fourteen. At the age of twenty-two (soon to be twenty-three) I’ve gone many places and there are more I want to see. For the passionate, traveling is a continuous desire. My appetite is never sated. Even when I can’t get to where I want to go at the moment, my mind wonders. During these periods I’m thinking about my plans to explore Australia’s beaches and the outback. Or, how I will make it on the Trans-Siberian Train that goes from Moscow, through Mongolia, all the way to Beijing. There is Machu Picchu, Buenos Aires, Burning Man, a road trip through the American southwest to California, New Zealand, beautiful Japan….
There is just so much in the world. Yes… a formal education is important, but I’ve learned so much from the world through traveling, more than I would have learned in a classroom. I was fourteen when I left the United States for the first time. I cried on the plane. I was leaving my mother. I was surrounded by “friends” and a few chaperones and I felt so alone. When I returned my mother picked me up and I slept for half a day. When I woke up I told her about everything.
About the energy of Piccadilly Circus on a Saturday night. How the sunset looked in Sorrento. The moment I realized that my “friends” were just convienent companions for a moment in time while on the night train through Switzerland. How cruising on the Seine at night with the Eiffel Tower glittering in front of me was one of the most beautiful moments in my life. How the Les Nubians song “Saravah” will always remind me of the incredibly blue waters of Capri.
All of these moments had such a powerful hold over me. I think it awoke the nomad inside of me. From that point on I never let a chance to leave or go somewhere pass me by. So, when it seems that I’m stuck in one place for a bit I never get upset. I have my memories to keep me going.