He was just like Pesaro, Balboa or Christopher Columbus to me. My uncle Gerald was a world traveler. He and my aunt Gladys went to exotic places like Venice, Amsterdam, Egypt and Hawaii. His visits were always highlighted with stories about gondolas and windmills and camel rides. I remember savoring every detail of their amazing adventures.
As a kid, I never went anywhere, except to Florida twice, to visit my crazy Aunt Vivian (she taxidermy her dog after he croaked). My mom wouldn’t drive the freeways and she hated to fly and my dad was never around. So, I traveled vicariously through my Aunt and Uncle’s tales and post cards.
On one of my uncle’s visits, he brought me one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. It was a little leather pouch from Italy with coins in it from around the globe. “You’ll need these” he said “it’s pocket change for when you begin your travels”. That was it. I was bitten by the travel bug and I haven’t ever recovered.
When Greg and I were first married, our early travel endeavors involved a pup tent, a Volkswagen and Mac-n- cheese made over a camp stove. I loved everything about those trips, except the lumpy rocks that would creep under the tent floor and my sleeping bag.
As our family grew, so did the transport vehicles. From the tent we went to a camper, to a 26 foot travel trailer to, a 32’ fifth wheel, which I loving referred to as “the apartment building”, to our present grand 30’ foot 5th, with two slide-outs. It’s like a rolling Taj Mahal!
Not only did our family hit the road, but we hit the air too. We did the family Hawaii-luau thing, saw the Nation’s Capital, followed the freedom trail from Philly to James Town, we were Amish for a weekend (not a good look for me), and all got dizzy on top of Seattle’s Space Needle. These family trips were so much fun, that one trip actually resulted baby number three.
However, my personal travel epiphany happened in 1989, on a trip with a girlfriend to Hong Kong. I couldn’t believe that I was standing on the other side of the planet. From my vantage point on top of Victoria peak, I gazed out over the South China Sea and watched the Junks glide across a tranquil sea of glass. It was a magical, transforming moment. Standing there I couldn’t help but think of my bag of coins back home. It was if my Uncle had willed me to that place.
Since that amazing trip to China over twenty years ago, I have been to 263 cities in 15 countries. Some of my favorite adventures have included, hiking the highlands of Guatemala, floating in a hot air balloon over the Tuscan country side, sailing through the Dalmatian isles of Croatia, navigating a bamboo boat down the Li river in central China, gawking at the anti-US propaganda in Havana, listening to steel drum music in Jamaica, watching fireworks over Big Ben, having iguanas chase me down the beach in Huatulco, Mexico. Amazingly, I have been back to China four times since that first trip.
After returning home from that initial trip to Hong Kong, I bought a plaque that says:
“I am not the same having seen the moon rise on the other side of the world.”Boy is that ever true, because I have become obsessed with travel and fortunately for me, I have infected my beloved husband with this bug.
For Christmas last year, one of the girls bought me the book “1000 place to see before you die”. It was great flipping through the pages and checking off the places that we have been to so far. It also made me feel like a bit of a travel-slacker, considering that I have more than 700 places still to see before I die. Worse than that, I have a bunch of places on my list that aren’t even mentioned in this book. All I can say is “I NEED MORE FREQUENT FLYER MILES!”
See, it’s really hard for me to understand folks who don’t feel the same way about traveling as I do. You know, people who, for whatever reason, are content to stay anchored to home and hearth for the entirety of their lives. Travel just has no lure for them. But I have a plan. The next time I run into someone like that I will just have to produce my secret treasure and enrapture them with my magic bag of coins.
As a kid, I never went anywhere, except to Florida twice, to visit my crazy Aunt Vivian (she taxidermy her dog after he croaked). My mom wouldn’t drive the freeways and she hated to fly and my dad was never around. So, I traveled vicariously through my Aunt and Uncle’s tales and post cards.
On one of my uncle’s visits, he brought me one of the greatest gifts I have ever received. It was a little leather pouch from Italy with coins in it from around the globe. “You’ll need these” he said “it’s pocket change for when you begin your travels”. That was it. I was bitten by the travel bug and I haven’t ever recovered.
When Greg and I were first married, our early travel endeavors involved a pup tent, a Volkswagen and Mac-n- cheese made over a camp stove. I loved everything about those trips, except the lumpy rocks that would creep under the tent floor and my sleeping bag.
As our family grew, so did the transport vehicles. From the tent we went to a camper, to a 26 foot travel trailer to, a 32’ fifth wheel, which I loving referred to as “the apartment building”, to our present grand 30’ foot 5th, with two slide-outs. It’s like a rolling Taj Mahal!
Not only did our family hit the road, but we hit the air too. We did the family Hawaii-luau thing, saw the Nation’s Capital, followed the freedom trail from Philly to James Town, we were Amish for a weekend (not a good look for me), and all got dizzy on top of Seattle’s Space Needle. These family trips were so much fun, that one trip actually resulted baby number three.
However, my personal travel epiphany happened in 1989, on a trip with a girlfriend to Hong Kong. I couldn’t believe that I was standing on the other side of the planet. From my vantage point on top of Victoria peak, I gazed out over the South China Sea and watched the Junks glide across a tranquil sea of glass. It was a magical, transforming moment. Standing there I couldn’t help but think of my bag of coins back home. It was if my Uncle had willed me to that place.
Since that amazing trip to China over twenty years ago, I have been to 263 cities in 15 countries. Some of my favorite adventures have included, hiking the highlands of Guatemala, floating in a hot air balloon over the Tuscan country side, sailing through the Dalmatian isles of Croatia, navigating a bamboo boat down the Li river in central China, gawking at the anti-US propaganda in Havana, listening to steel drum music in Jamaica, watching fireworks over Big Ben, having iguanas chase me down the beach in Huatulco, Mexico. Amazingly, I have been back to China four times since that first trip.
After returning home from that initial trip to Hong Kong, I bought a plaque that says:
“I am not the same having seen the moon rise on the other side of the world.”Boy is that ever true, because I have become obsessed with travel and fortunately for me, I have infected my beloved husband with this bug.
For Christmas last year, one of the girls bought me the book “1000 place to see before you die”. It was great flipping through the pages and checking off the places that we have been to so far. It also made me feel like a bit of a travel-slacker, considering that I have more than 700 places still to see before I die. Worse than that, I have a bunch of places on my list that aren’t even mentioned in this book. All I can say is “I NEED MORE FREQUENT FLYER MILES!”
See, it’s really hard for me to understand folks who don’t feel the same way about traveling as I do. You know, people who, for whatever reason, are content to stay anchored to home and hearth for the entirety of their lives. Travel just has no lure for them. But I have a plan. The next time I run into someone like that I will just have to produce my secret treasure and enrapture them with my magic bag of coins.
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