It might sound like I’m counting the days and that would be the truth. I have a bad habit of needing to have a holiday to look forward to. Not that my real life in Brisbane is in any way unpleasant. I spent the morning playing soccer with the boys in the park and drinking coffee in the warm winter sun. My job is pleasant and none too demanding and my boys are, generally, pretty well behaved.
However I’m addicted to travel. Not just the act of it but the anticipation. Let’s face it, some aspects of travel aren’t that fun. Long haul flights, traipsing through tropical heat trying to find a restaurant we all agree on, mosquitos, children who get travel sick…..
Thankfully the human mind is wonderful at blocking out unpleasant memories and we forget the uncomfortable parts of travelling and instead remember the high of swimming under a tropical waterfall in an ancient forest with macaque monkeys jumping from tree to tree.
But for me the research, the planning, the travel narratives I read and the conversations we have dreaming about our next trip afford me almost as much pleasure as the trip itself.