It seems that there are tons of travel bloggers around these days. All the cool ladies of the internet are heading off to this or that other city every other weekend; or if they aren't now, they have in the past, or they will later.
Traveling has to be one of the most romanticized activities of this age; the ability to get up and go is something that we treasure; we're told that we can never truly know ourselves until we've travelled solo.
Well, I have to confess something. I kind of hate travelling. I don't hate all of it; I love seeing new places, trying new foods, and making new friends. What I don't like is carting heavy bags around, and the constant worry about missing connections, getting stranded, or lost. I hate how stressful the physical part of travelling is.
This week is Spring Break of my study abroad semester, which means that this is the official "travel weekend". My friends are in France, Germany, Prague, and Belgium; we're all expected to come home with stories of the fun things that we've done, of late nights and crazy people. I've spent my whole week so far wandering around, eating good food and peaking through museums.
I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing something. If someone were to ask what I did this week, which they will, I won't have a very good answer. I ate some really good food and made some friends. That's all. I know that I still have half a week left, but I'm anxious to be home already. (Although I'm actually very nervous about the return trip; let's not talk about that.)
This is my last day of solo travel. I'm in Aberdeen, Scotland, and in 3 hours I'm getting on an overnight bus to London to rejoin a friend. I've seen all the tourist attractions in this city, my computer is dying, and I really just want to take a nap. I'm a homebody at heart, and the truth is that I can't stomach extended periods of travel. I need routine to survive, and I feel like that's not an acceptable answer. I'm supposed to love travel, supposed to be ecstatic about wandering around with my heavy bag, trying to find cheap-yet-delicious food. I've had fun, yes. But I still can't help wishing it was over.
In addition, I lost my ipod. The last few trips I took I purposefully left it at home, since I didn't want to lose it. Then, the first trip that I take it on I lose it. I'm pretty sure that it's in the hostel that I stayed in, and I've emailed them, but have yet to get a response. So I have an 11 hour bus ride tonight without it, plus the flight home.
I suppose I should not be complaining; I have an opportunity that so many people never get. I'm supposed to be happy. I just have to ask, though. Isn't it okay to not be happy? Or, at least, to be content just sitting in a coffee station across the street from the bus stop?