Travel is the ALIVE state

When I'm on the road, with my limited belongings and possibilities abounding, I'm in my happy place. But I'm happy when I'm not travelling too...it's my alive place.... Yes, That's it. It's the state in which I truly feel the most ALIVE.


Why travel?--a constantly changing, evolving, lengthened then shortened poem.

For the hours in the bus station, waiting.
For the few phrases you pick up and thereafter forget.
For the chickens that ride in the back of the truck with you.
For the meat dish you eat, not actually knowing what it is.
For the cameras that you lose, the pictures you take and never see again.
For the hostels with bedbugs and 24 people dorms.
For the spontaneity of jumping off a bridge or climbing an active volcano
For the sweat that permanently stains the shirts you wear days at a time
For the hand washing that never actually cleans anything.
For the smiles that cross cultural and language barriers.
For the train rides, hours and hours long.
For the joy of a Skype session home or long email update from close friends
For the loneliness of travelling alone that few can understand
For the friends you meet, love, and never see again.
For the day(s) you get sick--horribly, uncomfortably--just awfully sick.
For the change in how you might judge things--nudity, drugs, sexuality,
For the books you finally get to read, the books you wish you had with you to read
For the loss of routine--and the gain in freedom.
For the loss of awareness as to what is occurring back home.
For the moments you may actually miss the order and justice system in your own country.
For the reminder that home can be anywhere.
For the reminder that friends can be anyone.
For the reminder that today can be whatever I want today to be.
For my love of travel, I travel.

Enjoyed Theroux in NYTimes

Really enjoyed this quick piece by Paul Theroux....

http://travel.nytimes.com/2013/01/13/travel/paul-therouxs-travel-wish-list.html?pagewanted=2&_r=0&src=dayp

Particularly this paragraph... I just never really thought of it in that way before...

"The ultimate travel fantasies are, of course, unattainable. William S. Burroughs said in the 1950s, “What I want for dinner is a bass fished in Lake Huron in 1920.” In that spirit, I’d like to spend a Sunday in the West Medford of 1951, play bocce with my grandfather and eat some of my grandmother Angelina’s tortellini; I want to revisit the jolly bazaars of the Peshawar of 1973, the hopeful Nyasaland of 1964, the bike-riding China of 1980 (no private cars on the empty roads), and while I’m at it, I would like to return to the Borneo of the 1960s and again climb Mount Kinabalu."

Personally, I would want to go to church and then eat lunch with my grandparents in Spain. Or I'd want to work in the fields with my grandpa. I'd want to be surrounded by the activists of the 1960s in Berkeley. Travelling history... what a dream.