Earlier this year I said to Lee I was going to buy a map of the world and put stickers on it to mark all the places I wanted to go on our RTW adventure. Lee rolled his eyes and said that would be easy; I would just need to get one massive sticker big enough to cover the whole map.
Because I want to go everywhere.
It would be impossible for me to collate a list of things to do before I die. It is easier to assume that, if it involves adventure, people, places, food, languages, volunteering, helping others, drinking beer in the sunshine and generally having an awesome time, I want to do it.
At the risk of sounding like Veruca Salt, I want the world. Not in a possessive ‘I claim this land’ kind of way, but in a ‘Man, this world is amazing, I just can’t get enough of it’ kind of way.
I literally CANNOT watch any kind of documentary or travel show without turning to Lee and saying “I want to go there” or “I want to do that” (writing it down makes me realise how much of a spoilt brat I must sound here, but I mean it in the best possible way!). And every time Lee answers with a weary “You want to go everywhere and do everything.”
But I just can’t help it. I have an insatiable appetite to experience everything this world has to offer. I know it’s all out there, waiting for me. It’s like when you were a kid on Christmas morning and you just couldn’t stay in bed any longer – you had to rush downstairs and see what was there. For me, it’s always Christmas morning.
It’s the thing that keeps me glued to my Google Reader, living vicariously through other travellers until my turn finally comes. It’s the thing that has me here at my laptop, typing out my greedy global desires. It’s the thing that keeps me awake at night, scratching at my itchy feet.
THE WORLD. The most beautiful gift any of us will ever be given.
I don’t need a bucket in which to gather my RTW dreams. I need a bottomless pit.