I have always felt the need to travel. Coming from a family that could never afford to “take a vacation” in the traditional sense, I had little exposure to the world outside my home and immediate family. Even so, I always knew I loved other places. I developed a plan, as many teenagers do, to get as far away as possible as soon as I was old enough.
When I was 16, I left my parents’ home for boarding school. Although it was only an hour’s drive, the experience was rich in cultural exposure. I grew up in a small town in the Bible Belt of America, completely un-aware that Christianity wasn’t “the norm” in other places, or that people might have customs different than my own. I was quickly thrown into a new world that was eye-opening in the best way.
My roommate was of the Mormon faith, and she so gracefully answered all of my questions about her religion by starting with “Well, we believe….” instead of “It’s like this.” That’s when I first started to change my own way of expression and thinking. From “This is how it is, because that’s what I believe” to “I feel this way, but I don’t mean to say that you are wrong.” Our dorm-room neighbors were Muslim. I didn’t even know what Muslim was, but by the end of the semester I had learned and observed many of its customs. I grew to really respect religious diversity and to this day enjoy learning about the intricacies that make each one unique. I loved listening to a girl on my floor talk about her early life in Pakistan, where she was born. I learned why Bengali is not Indian. I was amazed to discover that my friend went to “Chinese” school conducted in Mandarin, while I was playing Nintendo. To this day, I love listening to my friends tell stories about their respective cultures.
Still, I could not afford to travel to any of these exotic places that my peers were so familiar with. That is, I couldn’t go on vacation. But the time to move on to college was approaching, and I could live wherever I wanted. I landed in New Orleans, LA, which I absolutely adored. I loved the culture- garden district streetcars, open air markets, sunbathing at the levee, and drive-through daiquiris. Then Hurricane Katrina forced an unexpected relocation. Again I wanted to go somewhere new, so I applied to the University of Southern California- sight unseen. I packed my belongings (what was left) into my tiny car and drove to a place that I had never been to before, to live with people who I had never met. I navigated the highways of Los Angeles and found my downtown apartment, which I had selected from over 1800 miles away. I wonder if I still have the courage to do something like that.
So now sitting in my own little house on the prairie, I’ve started to feel that familiar craving. After reviewing the not-so-encouraging vacation budget, I can’t help but wonder if just moving to a new city would be easier. To hell with counting vacation days… maybe I’ll just learn Italian, move to the Almalfi Coast, and open a little café.
My husband does love pasta.
Can I come? :)
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