I love travelling. Exploring places I’ve never been before, even if it’s in my own hometown, is something I always look forward to. It’s not just the trip that gets me excited. I also enjoy the preparation – researching the hotels/resorts, making sure they have oceanfront/beachfront rooms and not just “oceanview” rooms, confirming that there are beach bars on the premises or close by, food options (especially inexpensive ones!), places to see and visit, how much I should expect to pay for this and that, should I book the hotel transfer via the website or just grab a taxi when I get there, etc.
That love of travelling came from my parents. I remember taking long road trips what seemed like every year and attending travelogues back when they still used to offer them. When you’re an elementary age kid in the “pre-internet” world attending a presentation on some far off country you don’t know anything about, the presenters on stage in front of those huge movie screens appear bigger than life. And certain moments still stand out on those trips – waiting for the sun to set in Reykjavik, Iceland (I don’t think it ever did that night), driving through and above the clouds in Wheeling, West Virginia, hiking around Devils Tower in the Black Hills of Wyoming while waiting for a spaceship to land and take me away, scanning the vast wasteland know as Badlands National Park in South Dakota, meeting beautiful blue-eyed and blonde-haired Dutch girls for the first time in person and being invited back to their house, standing on a bridge looking over Gettysburg Battlefield and being mesmerized by the anguished history of the fields, going to my first topless beach at Lake Annecy in the Haute-Savoie region of France (it didn’t matter how clear that water was, it was never going to divert the gaze of a 14 year old boy), never forgetting the smell of old Western wooden planks in Deadwood, Colorado.
Those are all memories I can recall as if they happened yesterday. Memories I never would have had if it hadn’t been for my parents and our family trips. I think it’s a search for that wonder and excitement I had as a child, seeing and experiencing all those things for the first time, that keeps my feet on the road and my eyes glued to the internet always looking for the next big adventure. Memories are out there to be made and I can’t wait to tell you all about them!
Where did your love of travelling come from? Was it something you grew up with or something acquired later in life? Was it a certain moment or a trip, a movie or a song? What are some of your favorite memories out on the road?