oh, how i love traveling

Okay, that isn't so much true. I don't like the pile everything in the suitcase and lug it from place to place of traveling. I love knowing that I'm going somewhere and that a whole new world awaits me at the end. I love getting on a plane knowing that at the other end of those hours suspended in the air, watching the monitor show us passing over the Mediterranean, over the Sahara, over whatever we are passing over, I will get off the plane in a new place, strange or familiar, breathe new air, warm or cool, and deal with new customs officials, kind or corrupt. My first night in Liberia last summer, I was alone in the house we interns were going to live in. I put pajamas on and lay down in the thick warm air and smiled up at the ceiling. I was alone in a new/old place and it was a lovely feeling to enjoy that moment of Africa and anticipate a summer full of them.

I feel the same way, if less intensely, when I read about the travels that people make. I love the blog world because it gives me a chance to read about Egypt and Croatia and Indonesia and to see that those places, too, could someday be a part of me. I want to go everywhere. Mostly, right now, I just want to go back to that same job in Liberia for a little while before figuring out where to go next. But every few days, I read about Darfur and I want to go there. I almost cancelled law school to go work in Darfur in 2004. Or I read about Kabul and I want to go there. I want to go everywhere. And I love the fact that I could. I can. And maybe I will. Someday.