I am a traveller by choice. I love everything about it, even the hassles. Travel is like taking a sensory-enhancement drug; sounds seem cacophonous, smells are intoxicating, colors demand attention. When I travel I come home a little different, I like that too, I like thinking I brought home something less quantifiable than a woven rug, a little something smuggled home deep inside that no one else can see. It doesn't matter where I go, when I travel I think differently about where I live and it challenges my perception of how I live. A trip never fails to put matters in better perspective, and it's a good solid reminder of how fortunate is my lot in life, that travelling is a such a big part of it. I know a lot of people who hate to travel; some have travelled professionally so much they hate everything about it, some are supremely content in the enjoyment of their own backyard. Travel is nothing but a pain, a disruption in the good and fulfilling life they've created. I understand that, because as much as I love to travel I also love to come home. But then I start thinking about the next trip and the bug bites all over again.
All this was rummaging around in my head during a recent trip to Colorado. I didn't even plan this trip, a rarity since I enjoy being the family travel agent; this trip was planned by my brother in law in New York (as avid a traveller as I am). I basically went along for the ride. And what an interesting and fun trip it turned out to be, taking us from jaw dropping Alpine scenery to unexpectedly imposing giant sand dunes. Crumbling gold mines poked holes in the mountain scenery and we stayed in towns the miners created; the thriving ones reborn as chic ski villages or offbeat artist communities, the less fortunate crumbling under the weight of long lost prosperity. Our trip to Colorado reminded me yet again of how diverse is the massive country we live in. Here's a state easily within a day's drive of my home state of Arizona and yet how different! The Catalina Mountains out my window seem a world away from the Rockies. Here tough tenacious cacti flower in the dusty soil and saguaros start their long life beneath the protection of thorny mesquite trees. There I walked in fields of wildflowers, colors exploding into a pointillist carpet beneath aspen that quiver with the slightest breeze. Up there the air was thin of oxygen, here we're just as lacking in moisture. I ate a buffalo burger in Manitou Springs; tonight in Tucson I might treat myself to a prickly pear margarita.
There are a whole lot of trips I'd like to take, a long mental list of amazing sites and cultures that I'd love to see and experience. But this quick close to home trip was invigorating. I'm not sure I can really explain why.
There are a whole lot of trips I'd like to take, a long mental list of amazing sites and cultures that I'd love to see and experience. But this quick close to home trip was invigorating. I'm not sure I can really explain why.
“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” Mark Twain.
