I’ve been a predictably poor blogger lately. After I got home from Rwanda at the end of December (still writing that post!) I went to Park City, Utah for the Sundance Film Festival. I’ve been home in New York ever since – just two and a half weeks but it feels so strange. I have no travel plans for February so I put away my suitcase. There was a sense of loss that I know is irrational. Of course, it didn’t help to see social media feeds of all my friends (irl and online) at airports and new destinations.
There is something addictive about travel. Like other addictions, you gain a tolerance and each subsequent experience must be more challenging or grander or longer. The parts that were irritants at first – airport security, the dreaded middle seat, finding your ill-located airbnb – are easier as you refine your routine.
Eventually, you’ll take any little bit – a weekend holiday or even a day trip – because staying home is robbing your life of the thrills that you’ve been accustomed to. You spend find yourself daydreaming about being somewhere else. Even if you’d used to dream about being where you are now.