What I Miss the Most

Tonight I found an old scrap of paper with a flight itinerary to/from Washington, D.C. It is two years old, and I don't know from where it surfaced. Two years ago was the last time I went out of town. Two years ago, my entire life was suspended. I began graduate school and I delved more deeply into my career. There has been no time to travel with research due every Tuesday evening for 100 weeks straight. When I was looking into graduate programs, I clearly remember a colleague telling me that this program nearly killed her. Ha and hm, but I am not writing about grad school tonight. I am writing about the loss of my most precious and invigorating hobby, travel. If you want to perk me up super quickly, even when I am totally spent, irritated, and frustrated, my tune changes instantly at the prospect of taking a trip somewhere, anywhere. Few things are more thrilling to me. No matter where I am visiting, I enjoy some light background local research. Even packing is exciting for me, not to mention the journey itself. Once upon a time, airports and I were very familiar with each other, especially Hartsfield in ATL. (I even refer to many cities by their airport code; it just happens.) Everything about a new location interests me, from local cuisine and customs to dialect and architecture. Most of my favorite memories and experiences are marked by a year and location. I think that the most important part is not always comparing the differences from where and how I live, but rather finding the commonalities in being living, breathing, sentient human beings.

So while I may have more time to travel this year, unfortunately the economy is affecting such luxuries. Eating ketchup sandwiches for a few months a year doesn't bother me if it means saving for a trip. However, there is no one left to travel with. Most of my friends are young wives, so they cannot leave their spouses to go cavorting with a single woman. A few other single friends have declared permanent hibernation for whatever reason (boo--hiss). And the one or two other people left who love peripatetic adventure as much as I just don't have the funding. What, go alone? Surely, I could, but discovering things together--figuring out transit systems, sharing a dessert sampler, laughing at ridiculous commentary--is part of the fun.

Maybe my New Year's wish for myself this year will be to find a travel buddy, one who isn't afraid to jump on a horse and go at a moment's notice.