Not all those who wander are lost

It’s February, and I’m sitting in a Starbucks with a sunburn. I should probably mention I’m in Hawaii. I’ve been here for a week, which apparently is enough time to tan, burn, fade, and burn again, all while wearing sunscreen. I’ve still got seven pasty Canadian days to go.

It hit me on the flight over how long it’s been since I’ve travelled. Aside from a whirlwind trip with a client to New York this summer and a weekend in Halifax for a friend’s wedding two years ago, I haven’t really travelled in far too long.

I’ve always enjoyed travelling alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love travelling with family and friends (for the most part), but there’s something really freeing about just going off on your own and figuring shit out. I’ve ended up going in the wrong direction in the middle of the Korean countryside, left my wallet on the train (which luckily came back to me because I have a horseshoe up my butt), but I also met amazing people and saw things I never would have had I been within the comfort zone of a familiar group. It’s extremely easy for me to fall into a comfortable rut, and solo travel forces me out of that box (plus, I’m kind of fun to spend time with).

My current financial situation isn’t conducive to globetrotting (read: I am broke as shit), but building up a travel fund is going to be a priority for me this year. I’ll send you a postcard.


One response to “Not all those who wander are lost”

  1. The eternal quandary – the thrill of doing stuff alone you’d not do travelling with someone else vs “oh shit, I’d love to share this moment.” One of the few times I had both was with Steve. Isolated temple, both loaded, wholly unexpected. Post all-da-ending-in-Buldong session hiking you don’t expect such beauty to accept such ugliness. Keep the blogs-a-rollin’.

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