It’s a strange thing, this travel. I have nowhere in the world that I need to be. No commitments, no chores, just the world at my feet and pocket full of money earned from a summer of seriously hard work.
And suddenly, decisions get hard. Because there are so many options. I think about all the things I’ve ever wanted to do, and my head reels with all the choices. Laze on a beach in Thailand for three months, volunteer with elephants in Cambodia, visit the Red Square in Moscow, work with the orphans in Romania, see the Northern Lights of the Arctic Circle, Angel Falls in Venezuela, Bora Bora in Tahiti, snowboard the Alps, Yosemite Valley in the States – I could spend hours on this list!
So I’ve decided to take it one step at a time. My goal for this year is to have my first White Christmas, and wherever that takes me, we shall see!
The wet slap slap of the rain, as swollen drops from the rooftops thwack onto the river of the road below. It reminds me of Thailand, this muggy heat – oppressive tension, followed by the cascading relief each day, always the same in the monsoon.
My ears ache for that sound, the high sshhhh as the wheels carve their tracks through the flood, white jets of water spraying behind them. The gentle patter when it starts, building and building until the loud thundering, drumming cacophony, each drop its own furious hammer against the world below.
Suddenly, there is a cool breeze, the air disturbed by all this movement. It surprises me. My skin forgets, my body forgets. Over this long summer we have all forgotten the way it feels. The cooler months are coming. This thought awakens me, and I pull a thin blanket across over my shoulders, shivering with soft anticipation.