In The Beginning

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

In the beginning, there was Grandma. She had passion for foreign travel...if not exactly foreign food. She didn't grow up traveling, it was something she stumbled upon later in life. She'd been on several international trips, some for work, some for pleasure, all on a bus with the details taken care of. It was 1990 and she had the itch to go again. I'm not sure why she asked me to come along. Maybe her friends were busy. Maybe she could justify the cost to my grandfather more easily with me involved. Maybe it (and I prefer this answer) was because she and I have much the same temperament and have always enjoyed spending time together. Whatever the reason, at the highly impressionable age of 14 I got my first passport, packed my bag, and got in the back of the Buick headed to SeaTac Airport leaving my home, parents, and friends for 3 whole weeks. An eternity to a teenager.

The trip was a European spring break extravaganza. Nine countries in 21 days with two days in London on either side. And all done from the comfort of our huge COSMOS tours bus. Hotels booked every night, luggage hauled for us, breakfasts all included and lots of theme dinners. Just us, a Mexican family that didn't speak English, an Indian Family with a son my age, an Australian family with a daughter my age (although her "worldliness" far surpassed mine) and 50 retirees of various nationalities--all spoke English. It was going to be AWESOME.

And it was. Even from my vantage point 15 feet off the ground speeding down the autobahn at 100 kilometers per hour only stopping in the world's greatest cities long enough to have tour guide march us around town for 2 hours and then take us his/her cousin's souvenir shop, I fell in love. It was just enough to tease my imagination about the possibilities that lay behind the doors of the quaint cafes where we didn't eat, the treasure hiding in the boutiques where we didn't shop and the promised romantic whimsy of the long strolls in the sunset we didn't take. And this was BEFORE I had a nose for fine wine and a taste for unpasteurized cheese. I WOULD come back. I WOULD find the hidden alleys and meet the locals. No buses or cheesy tourist dinners allowed.

And so my obsession began...most of the things I've done in life have been motivated by my desire to see the world--not from a tour bus--all expenses paid if possible.

I started writing as a way to remember long after the cheap glass beads from Venice or the German world cup t-shirt were gone. I knew someday when I was old or broke or encumbered by kids, work, or life in general I could read about where I'd been and what I'd done and the memories would make me smile. And then it turned out other people enjoyed reading my musings....

My travels have slowed of late...a fore mentioned kids the culprits. So I guess this is as good a time as any to start a blog--refining the journals I've written, trying to fill in gaps for trips I didn't write about, and getting energized for yet another few years living in Europe. This time with kids. We'll still travel. It just might be a little closer to home and a little slower. I think it could open doors to new and wonderful experiences--and probably some meltdowns at inopportune times, but so be it. I'm determined to instill in them the same wonder and excitement for new places and new people that I have.

So here they are...I'll post one a week, or at least that is the goal. Life--or if I'm lucky, travel might get in the way. No apologies.