Once the travel bug bites there is no known antidote, and I know that I shall be happily infected until the end of my life.
I was only 12 when the travel bug bit me. Together with my family we drove to the airport of Verona, where my older brother was about to leave for the Bahamas. We dropped him off and made our way to the back side of the runway area to watch his plane take off.
The sun was setting, coloring the sky with a beautiful pink hue. Around me, sheaves of wheat as far as I could see. I was standing outside of the car with my mom and dad, staring up impatiently. Finally the singing of the crickets was broken by the rumble of the engines. A massive, shining bright airplane darts right above my head, roaring away to a world that until then I had only seen in books.
From that moment, the sky didn’t look like the sky anymore. To my eyes it became a twine of infinite roads able to open endless possibilities.
My brother was up there, about to explore the world. I was down, hooked forever to the wonders of traveling.
Fast forward a few years, and the dreams of that little girl became my life. Now I travel full time. And I do it with my favorite person in the world, my husband.
We are world-class Gypsies. “Catch me if you can” seems to be the perfect slogan for our life.
When people ask us to give them a mailing address, we never know if the package is ever going to reach us.
I had a company try to deliver a package 3 times: I gave them an address in New York; the mailman wasn’t as fast as we were. We tried again in Florida; by the time it got there we were already in Los Angeles. And as they contacted me again to try a new delivery in California, I was too embarrassed, we were off to Hong Kong. No chance that package would have ever made it!
Thank God there’s Amazon prime with their next day delivery. We still haven’t managed to be faster than them 😉
Once you experience the adrenaline of traveling and the endless surprises of a life on the road, it’s hard to go back to the way things were.
If I could go back to those fields behind the runway in Verona, I would tell that little girl not to worry. She’ll be sitting on that plane in only a few years, writing a piece on how it all started in that little county airport.