I just finished reading an article in this month's Condé Nast Traveler, When the Rich Go Wild. The title is both annoying and endearing, but the content itself, wonderful. It was about wealthy environmentalists and the gorgeous places they're preserving all over the world.
It made me want to go somewhere.
I'm not the only one with an interest in "travel". Many people claim to have it, but few have the same version as I. There are those who consider travel to mean vacation. It could involve a beach or slopes but it always equates relaxation. Then there are others who translate travel to an itinerary. They research and plan, research and plan, and spend a few days in a foreign country experiencing that which has already become somewhat expected. And then there's me.
There's a reason they call it "the travel bug." This effervescent desire to visit a new place, revel in it's culture, food, architecture, energy, as often as humanly possible, never does seem to go away. I have got a so-bad-it's-good case of wanderlust.
With that said, I can be satisfied with staying in one place. I usually am. I like establishing my favorite café, getting into an active routine, having the ability to consistently spend time with people I care about. I really do! Until, I don't. Sometimes this restlessness can be answered with a mere weekend getaway. Other times, I need something more. Like, you know, now.
I've been told that "I'm good at travel." Although I can't say I know exactly what that means :) I'll admit I'm flattered, especially because I absolutely love doing it. I didn't always though. I couldn't have. Looking back, there were a few turning points...
P.S. If you didn't know it already, and you probably didn't, Jersey City is delicious. I learned this because of a certain boy, ahem, and the lovely meal we had above. For phenomenal seafood (most notably oysters), amazing service, and a fantastic beer and wine selection, please go to the Light Horse Tavern.