People talk about getting bitten by the travel bug. I never really knew what they meant. When Ron and I were growing up, travel was for rich people. Travel for working class families meant piling into the car for a seemingly endless road trip to visit relatives. Except for a two week trip to Kaui early in our marriage, Ron and I perpetuated the same pattern when our own children were growing up. With limited time and vacation funds, preserving family ties and honouring familial obligations took precedence over the idea of travel for pleasure’s sake.
That all changed with our trip to France in 2014. I have wanted to go to Paris since, well, as long as I can remember. It probably started with the Madeline books. But I think the idea really took hold when I was a teenager, after hearing Marianne Faithfull’s “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan.”
2014 was the year that we celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary as well as the year that I celebrated my 50th birthday, so when Ron suggested a trip to Paris to honour reaching these milestones, I was happy to agree. We spent a year planning the trip which expanded to include a visit to the Dordogne Valley in southwest France to see the cave paintings at Font de Gaume, as well as a brief soujourn in southern France. It was a life changing experience.
We still have limited time and funds for travel but we’ve managed to take a trip each calendar year since – Maui in October 2015 and Portugal this past June. All of our trips have been booked six months to a year in advance with a lot of time invested in crafting an itinerary, finding accommodations, and learning about our destination. Planning our adventures has become a delightful hobby and is almost as enjoyable as the trip itself. The prospect of an adventure is the light at the end of the tunnel that keeps us chugging along through our daily routines.
Our next adventure is still in the earliest stages. Although we’ve discussed several options, we’ve yet to decide upon a destination. I find myself with certain sense of restlessness. Like a mosquito bite that won’t stop itching, thoughts about possible destinations keep intruding on my consciousness. There will be no peace until plans are in motion. Bitten by the travel bug, indeed.