The terrible, terrible disease
19 November 2006
Do I have to come home? Really? I don’t want to, please let me stay, I’m not ready to leave. Barcelona was AMAZING! I had such an incredible time. Exploring the Picasso Museum and the Museum of Contemporary Art, wandering the streets in the Gothic Quarter, enjoying espressos in hidden cafes, strolling down Las Ramblas, admiring the works of Gaudi…what’s not to be enjoyed? Not to mention all the random, awesome people that I hung out with from the hostel.
It’s terrible, the disease is spreading. You think that going abroad will help to satisfy that little voice inside screaming, “Leave! Get out, explore the world…experience new things!” And yet the only thing coming over here has done is turn what was once a little voice into an incredibly loud one, being shouted through a massive sound system into my eardrums. All I want to do is travel, to learn more languages. I don’t want to go home. The Australian guy I met was on his 23rd month of traveling the world. How ridiculously cool is that?! He lived in New York, Philly, and San Diego; was in South America hopping from country to country; was traveling through all the countries in the UK then off to Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland; jumping next to Europe, stopping in Italy, the Czech Republic, Switzerland, Austria, Germany, France, Spain; the list just continues. Can I please do that with my life? The whole living out of a backpack thing could get difficult after a few months, and I have no idea where the money would come from, but I can’t even tell you just how badly I wanted to not get back on that train. I spent half the ride home toying with the idea of jumping from hostel to hostel…meeting/traveling with random people I’d meet along the way, experiencing so many different cultures, not having a set plan, just letting life take me by the hand. There’s something so wonderful and exciting about being whoever I want to be. It’s so refreshing, not having anyone know me. No preconceived notions of who I am, no category to which one confines me. The interest in getting to know me coming simply from having the common bond of being in country that’s not our own.
Do I have to come home? Really? I don’t want to, please let me stay, I’m not ready to leave. Barcelona was AMAZING! I had such an incredible time. Exploring the Picasso Museum and the Museum of Contemporary Art, wandering the streets in the Gothic Quarter, enjoying espressos in hidden cafes, strolling down Las Ramblas, admiring the works of Gaudi…what’s not to be enjoyed? Not to mention all the random, awesome people that I hung out with from the hostel.
It’s terrible, the disease is spreading. You think that going abroad will help to satisfy that little voice inside screaming, “Leave! Get out, explore the world…experience new things!” And yet the only thing coming over here has done is turn what was once a little voice into an incredibly loud one, being shouted through a massive sound system into my eardrums. All I want to do is travel, to learn more languages. I don’t want to go home. The Australian guy I met was on his 23rd month of traveling the world. How ridiculously cool is that?! He lived in New York, Philly, and San Diego; was in South America hopping from country to country; was traveling through all the countries in the UK then off to Norway, Sweden, Finland, Iceland; jumping next to Europe, stopping in Italy, the Czech Republic, Switzerland, Austria, Germany, France, Spain; the list just continues. Can I please do that with my life? The whole living out of a backpack thing could get difficult after a few months, and I have no idea where the money would come from, but I can’t even tell you just how badly I wanted to not get back on that train. I spent half the ride home toying with the idea of jumping from hostel to hostel…meeting/traveling with random people I’d meet along the way, experiencing so many different cultures, not having a set plan, just letting life take me by the hand. There’s something so wonderful and exciting about being whoever I want to be. It’s so refreshing, not having anyone know me. No preconceived notions of who I am, no category to which one confines me. The interest in getting to know me coming simply from having the common bond of being in country that’s not our own.
posted by Brittany at 8:14 AM
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