I must have been my early love of cinema that cemented my urgency to travel. I wanted to be Kristen Scott Thomas in the English Patient, Audrey Hepburn in Roman Holiday, Gwyneth Paltrow in The Talented Mr Ripley, and Deborah Winger in The Sheltering Sky. I wanted to be in a foreign country breezy, glamorous, tan, charming and unapproachably female. I wanted to wear white on safari, lipstick in a piazza full of men, ride a scooter in a skirt and lace-up sandals.
Lace-up sandals are idiot shoes when you're lost on cobblestone streets, so I've since graduated to Birkenstocks. In the last year I've gone on 10 flights, spent 14 weeks on road trips, at least 6 weeks in foreign countries, and who knows how many miles I've walked. In the coming year, I will definitely be topping that. But as those who atrophy without travel know, its not about putting pins in a map. We need novelty, thrill, and sensory overwhelm in order to relax. We get restless in our comfort zones. When we travel, hardships and risks are simply an absurd new story to tell and we can laugh even in the thick of it. We are the ones who know we could die tomorrow, so when others say no, we just go.