The sensation of feeling greasy, exhausted and economically broke is nothing compared to the memories I will have for the rest of my life. Not to mention the huge pile of dirty clothing waiting to get done when I get back home.
The feeling I get when I step onto a bus, ride a train, sit in a car or get on a plane is pure thrill.
It is hard to believe that this past summer gave me the first opportunity to get on a plane.
Whether I am sitting next to my family or a person whose story I don’t know, the journey there is incomparable.
No one is waiting for me; hundreds of communities and people are living their lives and moving on. However, the time will come when I finally start telling people, “Yeah, I’ve been there. It was magical.”
Through museums, I get to feel the anguish and loneliness of Van Gogh, feel Frida Khalo’s passion, experience the life of Maximilian I of Mexico and see the heartbreaking story of Anne Frank.
Through sidewalks, I get to walk the day-to-day life of hundreds of people.
Through restaurants, I get to feel generations of people, taste recipes passed down and witness the start of new traditions.
Taking a road trip and looking out the window, I get to see leaves changing color, mountains overcoming the skyline, a small herd of deer and feel a slight breeze of cool air.
To take a plane and have a large man take over half of your space by manspreading while a small child kicks the back of your seat is a positive kind of annoyance.
I believe it is magical to go to a different country and be charged the “American tax” because of the way I dress and talk.
I believe it is magical how we use cars to go everywhere in the U.S., but as soon as we leave the country, we become reliant on sketchy taxi cabs and trains where we are most likely to become victims of pickpocketing.
But just imagine standing in the middle of Sagrada Familia in Barcelona admiring the architecture and the history, dancing your way through the colorful parade of Mardi Gras in New Orleans while drunk people attempt to regain their balance or riding a camel along the Dead Sea while exploring the ruins of Jerusalem.
Any of these, no matter how far or how close it is, would be a dream come true.
I see the glamorous and realistic sides of traveling as one.
Both give you unforgettable experiences and stories to tell.
As my mom puts it, I am a “chivo loco sin riendas” who takes any opportunity to get out of town, and I will proudly wear that name if it means I get to travel.
Note to future self: Always have the means for your next meal. Traveling is expensive.
