Travel and change of place impart new vigor to the mind. — Seneca  

There are others out there like me and you know who you are. If I don’t see new things or experience a new place for a while, I start to exhibit symptoms: anxiety, short temperedness and a weird feeling a bit like claustrophobia. I start researching and planning travel locations online and in my well-worn travel guides. Every Jan. 1, I make a list of desired travel locations for the year. Sound familiar anyone? 

Recently, my cousin and I were talking about our callings in life. Deep, I know, but with my soul-sister cousin, our conversation often rises to this level. She feels that she was born to paint — it fulfills her mentally and spiritually. What charges me in the same way? Travel. 

I not only feel the need to travel frequently, I based my career on it, found my husband because of it, and crave it. And I am not talking about a beachside resort here. For me, the more bizarre and off the beaten path, the better. After all, those travels make the best stories. 

It all started with my third-grade social studies text book that highlighted a selection of countries. Even though no one in my family had ever traveled overseas, I wanted to experience the canals of the Netherlands, ride a bike in Japan, stand in front of St. Basil’s Cathedral, and see the rice patties in China. A few years later, on a trip to Disney’s Epcot Center, there’s a section where numerous countries are featured that include some indigenous foods, products and exhibits, and are staffed by natives of the country. These were just superficial glimpses, but nevertheless, the travel seed was planted. 

In my junior year in college, I finally had my chance to fulfill my dream via a study abroad semester. A bit intimidated by the big world, I zeroed in on English-speaking countries and decided on Galway, Ireland. My first experience abroad was nothing less than magical, thanks, in part, to the lovely Irish people, and the breath-taking scenery that I had previously seen only in movies, and the aforementioned text books.  I lived with flat mates from Italy, France and Poland and my room overlooked an ancient castle and a river populated with swans. A friend and I spent our weekends hitch-hiking the Emerald Isle (kids don’t try this at home), not always knowing where we would end up. But it didn’t matter; the journey was always the fun. 

During my semester in Ireland, I took advantage of the accessibility of the rest of Europe. With my all-weather coat, hiking boots, backpack and EurRail ticket, I set sail on the ferry to France, and then spent the next six weeks riding the rails throughout Europe — exciting, frightening, uncomfortable, exhilarating and life-changing. I felt truly alive for the first time in my life. 

Since my college days, I’ve voyaged to more than 50 countries, sometimes multiple times, for both work and pleasure and have lived overseas five times. I’ve stayed at five-star hotels with doormen wearing white gloves and at budget hostels with sheets that probably weren’t even washed. I have dined on 10-course haute cuisine meals that were nothing short of paradise, and have eaten dishes of questionable origin with dirty silverware in Third World countries. I have known the luxury of a business class flight with the complementary welcome champagne and fully reclining seats, and also experienced the fear of almost capsizing when large waves and a violent storm nearly capsized our flimsy boat. 

Despite the variety of my travels, one thing is the same. Every trip shaped me into the person I am today by opening my mind.  Like any form of education, and travel is indeed the best education, no one can ever take away what I learned and experienced. It is my classroom. It is my happiness. It is who I am.

article source