I don’t think I have suffered such severe wanderlust as I have been suffering lately. Never have I wanted to leave this state and go exploring, get inspired by a change in scenery and truly live. I have been having lots of discussion about travel with my husband recently. He asked me a dangerous question the other night. “So where do you want to go?”
Where do I want to go? Before I go any further, I must let you in a little secret: I have never in my life flown on an airplane. I have had many dreams about getting to the airport and my anxiety takes over. I cry. I shake. I turn around and go home. There have only been a few rare occasions when my dreams have allowed me to safely take flight to my destination. But there is one place on the planet that I would load up on anxiety medication (and perhaps a drink or two…or seven) and fly to. France*. My fascination with French culture has gotten to the point where I speak to my husband in French, confusing the hell out of him because he has no idea what I’m saying, in hopes that he’ll be provoked by my fake Parisian charm to travel there, too (or at least get annoyed enough to want to go). I have even tried to convince him to go by bribing him with a visit to a nude beach. Not even Euro ta-tas can inspire an ounce of wanderlust in my man.
For the heck of it, I hopped on Groupon the other day and searched their travel deals. I actually started to get upset because I realized that I have never truly been anywhere. As kids, we drove to visit family in Georgia. My parents took me to Disney World when I was very small. I have visited family in Massachusetts, met family halfway in North Carolina, spent holidays with family in Connecticut. Do you see a pattern forming? I have been to Pennsylvania numerous times and taken day trips into New York City. Perhaps I’ve done more than others, but I want more.
That question my husband asked has been nagging me. Where do I want to go? The first thing I said when he asked me was, “I want to go North.” There’s still a lot on this coast to be explored (let alone our own state). I found castles to stay in. Harbors to visit. Mountains to climb. I wouldn’t mind crossing the border into Canada one day (I might have to settle for French-Canadian provinces for now). I would kill to get close enough to view the Northern Lights in a clear night sky.
My recent wanderlust reminds me of a scene in The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy runs away from home and Professor Marvel predicts why Dorothy has left.
Professor Marvel: You want to see other lands, big cities, big mountains, big oceans!
Dorothy: Why, it’s just like you could read what was inside of me.
Travel would be so much easier if I could just click my heels together and be back in time for supper. Until my husband schedules his vacation days, I’ll keep dreaming of far away places and ask: so where do you want to go?
*I wrote this post before the terror situation in Paris broke out. My heart goes out to to the people of France. It saddens me to see a place of love having to deal with such terror.