I have always loved traveling. The anticipation of counting down the days until a trip. Picking out outfits for the exact number of days I'll be gone and carefully placing each one in a suitcase. Finding a balance between being annoyed with how much space my shoes are taking up in my suitcase versus being annoyed with not having the right pair of shoes to wear with that outfit I packed. Double-checking my "to pack" list I made way too far in advance while daydreaming one day about the trip. Making a run to the closest drugstore to pick out my favorite travel-sized-toiletries that will fit in my small ziploc bag. Battling the irritation I feel bubbling up as I picture having to take said-ziploc bag out of my carry-on at the airport security checkpoint. Waking up early to catch a flight [or start a roadtrip to beat rush hour traffic in that big city we'll be driving through]. Catching a little travel nap on the airplane [or in the passenger seat of the car]. Finally arriving at the much anticipated destination.
The intoxicating combination of travel stress and vacation excitement is irreplaceable. It's followed by settling in at our host's home or in a hotel room [picked online after sifting through dozens of price options and other travelers reviews].
The trips are filled with exploring new city streets, picking places to eat that balance good atmosphere, cheap prices and yummy food, walking until my feet and calf muscles can't take it anymore, battling weather predictions with layers of clothing, and fighting off back aches from carrying my purse that I had to pack everything in "just in case."
The adventures are priceless and I capture all the moments I can with our Canon. Hoping to also burn the images into my memory for years to come. I mentally take note of the highlights of each day so as not to forget them when I'm home telling loved ones of the trip.
I take pride in adding another city to the list of amazing places I've been and seen, wondering if someday I'll hear the city mentioned and be able to say "I've been there!"
The smells, the sounds, the way the city streets feels beneath my tired feet, the way the rain falls on my raincoat [and ruined my hair...] or the way the sun beat down and gave my cheeks a rosey glow [good thing I packed that sunscreen/umbrella in my purse], the taste of the food in that cozy little cafe, the thing that made me buckle over in laughter that I insisted on writing down so we wouldn't forget, the strange people we watched move about the city. These are all part of the memorable adventures that I am blessed to have.
But nothing compares to the moment I arrive home. The moment I'm not living out of a suitcase or squeezing another day out of those dirty socks. The moment I get to cook and eat a homemade meal after days of eating out. The moment I get to take a shower in my own bathroom and wash off the grime of traveling. The moment I get into my own bed next to the one I love. The moment I close my eyes with sweet dreams of my recent adventures.
So, like I said, I have always loved traveling. But I find myself most comfortable and most "me" at home. Home where I know where the nearest grocery store is and how to get there, where I know my bedding hasn't been used my many other travelers, where my closet is full of options for what outfit to wear tomorrow, where I know how the microwave works and what temperature the oven works best, where my everyday-simple-life takes place.
Today I am grateful for the gift of the many adventures I've been able to have and will have in the future, for the way the house here in the Netherlands has been able to feel like home for our short three month stay, and for always being able to come HOME.
[pictures from trip to maastricht, NL & antwerp, belgium]
