“Life isn’t just a checklist, you know?” I tell myself endlessly looping around this thought as I open up the 16th page for “best sites to see in Norway.” I’m planning my next vacation because after careful debate a series of complex divining practices my husband and I figured out that we’d like to take a vacation in Norway this year.
Here’s where things get a little fuzzy for me: why travel?
Travel has all sorts of purposes and it means and does different things for different people but since it’s only been the last four years where I’ve had the time, money, and ability to travel I find myself at a kind of existential crossroad where I question the nature and need for travel at all.
Maybe it’s because I’m American or maybe it’s because I spent too long being poor that I find travel to be equal parts extravagant and stressful. I went from having one “vacation” a year where I would drive or fly for 8 hours to stay with a family or friend for 3 days to the past few years where I’ve taken 2 (or more!) vacations per year for 8-10 days at a time where I fly or take a train for 2-3 hours and visit multiple countries and cities staying in my own accommodations where I’m free to come and go as I please. The experience has been absolutely day and night.
I don’t know good job at putting words down today though,
