What Travel Means to Me

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A few years ago I was in a deep depression and the way I tried to get out of it was by exploring southern California where I live.

 

I told myself that I am in one of the most beautiful parts of the country; I need to dig myself out of the darkness that encased me and attempt to see things I had not yet seen.

 

This started my monthly excursion to finding new places.

 

I visited Joshua Tree, discovered a botanical garden in Riverside, found a nursery on beautiful grounds in Fallbrook, drove to Palm Springs, went up to Los Angeles a few times.

 

With my camera in my hands, I took photos and documented my time out doors. I can’t say this cured me but it certainly helped.

 

Having always loved to travel, whether it was with my parents as a child up the eastern seaboard, adventures out of the house have always been my favorite. I still want to get back to Rockport, MA, a place that has imbedded itself in my memory. Think of lobster boats and lighthouses.

 

My travel memories as a child include seeing then Vice President George Bush playing golf in Maine, playing paper dolls in cabin on Echo Lake, Vermont, a condo in New Hampshire with shag carpet, little slices of travel memories that are not significant but part of my collective travel experience.

 

Because my husband is a huge fan of cruises, we have gone on countless trips via Royal Caribbean and Celebrity cruise lines. Its almost ridiculous, our kids are nearly at the highest level of loyalty membership and they are only young adults.  My husband loves to unpack once, settle in and relax. I like to see new places and I am always grateful for a break in the cooking and cleaning routine. While the family goes off to explore the ship and do fun things, I like to be alone, reading for hours while we are at sea.

 

Travel memories as adult swirl around my kids and our adventures in airports and settling into hotels and heading out on a cruise ship for unimaginable escapades.

 

When I think about my experiences as an adult, it’s me alone in a strange place because my family is not really that into walking tours, so I’m with people I don’t know, trusty camera in my hands. I’m on bus taking photos out of a smudged window trying to capture another place, so different than my life back home.

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