In three weeks something very exciting is happening: Matt and I are going to Europe. We are going to explore four different cities, and we are going to see friends and, most excitingly, we are going to witness our friends’ wedding in the north of Italy.
A few months ago this trip was completely out of the question, but then a couple of things changed and suddenly we were organising an international holiday. Other than our honeymoon in Fiji, Matt and I have not traveled overseas as grownups, so there has been a lot of research going on to make sure everything runs smoothly.
At first it was stressful, but as we began to book flights and places to stay… it started getting fun! Drawing up an itinerary, tentatively putting aside items to pack, booking train tickets – it’s become a stimulating exercise. I’ve developed a new set of problem-solving skills and it’s fired up my imagination. What will we see when we get there? How will it feel? What do we need to take to navigate our way through foreign countries?
For the last couple of months, dreaming and planning for our holiday has overtaken all my normal hobbies. When I get home from work or college and I want to relax, I head straight to the computer to keep making plans, or look at pictures of the places we will go. It’s my new drug, it’s the thing that makes me feel good. The things I used to do to rest are all kind of on hold for the moment. Our garden is looking a little unloved, I haven’t made anything new for ages, there has been no blogging or writing or reading. Holiday planning is everything!
My friends and family who travel regularly talk about the experience of wanderlust, and getting hooked on the need to plan holidays and travel. I wonder if I will feel it too when we get home? It will be weird to come back home and to not be able to rest through the planning of a holiday. I can imagine how addictive this feeling could become in the long term, how easily the planning of holidays could take over one’s life.