I was thinking today (yesterday? Somewhere over the international dateline?) about how much work international travel really is – you have the airport shenanigans, the long flights (usually more than one), connections, layovers, the impossibility of sleep, time changes, luggage … and that’s all just to get you to your final destination. As we were speeding over the atlantic ocean today, and I was unable to sleep (in spite of my economy plus accommodations and the empty seat next to me), I wished I could just go back home and curl up in my own bed.
And then we touched down, got a taxi and hit the open roads of buenos aires, snaking our way further into the gritty, vibrant, uniqueness that I’ve experienced in nearly international city i’ve been to. And I got The Feeling. The feeling that hits me every time I go somewhere new, overwhelming and unexplored. The feeling other travelers can surely identify with. The energy of the moment. The overwhelming sense that you are at the most important place in the world at the best possible time and you never want to leave. “The Feeling” feeds your soul yet leaves you insatiably longing for more. The unknown is scary and enticing and you can’t get enough.
Describe it however you will or marvel at its inability to be put into words … The Feeling is what puts me onto another plane. Forces me to give up another chunk of my hard-earned cash. Draws me into street markets and corner bars and into conversations in odd corners of this expansive planet. If you’ve never felt it, it’s hard to describe, but if you’re a fellow vagabond it’s a familiar sensation. And – if you’re like me - one that makes up an increasingly large portion of who you are. :))