New Travels

Remember when you first ventured to a new place? You were half excited, half nervous. Would the place be as exciting as you'd hoped? Would you find fun stuff to see or do? Or would it be boring? Would it smell like urine there--or mold--and would the hotel have cold running water or hot running roaches?

You were probably filled with anticipation, expectation, trepidation, and even abject fear.

Okay, so I can't speak for you... but I've felt all of that. And I feel the same thing when I'm trying something new. Say I decide to join a choir, or learn to knit, or take a class on photography. I could totally suck at it. It happens to all of us (or most of us, for those of you in denial). And the more new things we try, the more likely it will happen.

But it's important to travel into that new territory anyway.

Let me use the travel metaphor again to illustrate why. Say that you go on a cruise to Cozumel. And it was fun. And Cozumel was fun. So the next time you think about going on a cruise, you go back to Cozumel. You know you liked it, and you are afraid the other ports of call won't be as good, so you just keep going back in the same direction. Over and over.

But after a while Cozumel gets old. And in the end you realize that you've missed out on a ton of other places--and that's just in the Caribbean. No telling how many other fantastic places you've missed. Even if you cruise other places, but never travel any other way, you will miss out. Can you truly see Europe if you don't go inland? Nope. You miss too much. Can you see it in a week? Nope. What about Asia? What about Africa? How will you know what places truly resonate with you if you don't try them out?

There's the two kiddos...
bet you didn't know my daughter had purple hair, did you?
(graphic courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net)

I write this, not because I've ventured into new territory lately--and not because I've been on a cruise lately, either--but because my kids have done something truly new. Last night they both auditioned for our community theatre's production of Oliver! I auditioned, too, but I'm a bit more experienced with it than they are. I could tell they were nervous. And even a little scared. My son  couldn't sit back in his seat, even after he had sung his little piece.

But they both did it. They both stepped up on that stage--by themselves, mind you, not holding my hand or anything--and sang a song. And they both got back up there and learned a little dance routine so that the choreographer could see whether they could dance at all.

Will they get a part? No idea. I'm not sure whether that really matters (at least not to me). I'm bursting at the seams with pride that they tried out, that they had the guts to step up there and do something new and radical. I hope this is just one of many new things they try this year. Whether they get parts or not, they have added a notch to their confidence, have realized that they wouldn't die from fear, and have proven themselves a bit more independent than they were last year.

Now I have to consider what new things I will try this year. Where will I venture? How will I keep myself from staying within my travel comfort zone?

Come to think of it, what new travels are you planning?

Travel Tuesday: Where Do You Want to Go Today?

Photo from Microsoft Office

As a re-vamp to my blog (since I pretty much took the summer off and played hooky from EVERYTHING), I've decided to make Tuesdays all about traveling. It could be places that truly exist, places only in books or films, places that once existed, but don't anymore, or even places that may some day exist, if I only live long enough.  

As a start to that, I have a few questions for you, my too-long-neglected readers. Feel free to answer any or all of them in your comments on this page, unless you, too, have dematerialized from blogworld to go on your merry way. Here they are:

1. What part of the world today would you most wish to visit? 

(My answer: Great Britain. Yes, even after that travesty of an opening ceremony, I still want to go there most.)

2.  What mythical/fictional place attracts you most? 

(My answer: Neverland. But I'd hope that J.M. Barrie was there to give me a tour--amazing man, if everything I've read about him is true. That freaky island from Life of Pi was cool, too, but I don't think I actually want to visit it.)

3.  What place from a long time ago do you wish most to see? 

(My answer: The Parthenon, in all its glory. Then again, if it was garishly painted as some scientists suggest, I might just pass. I'd love to see Atlantis, too, but perhaps that should be classified as "mythical/fictional.")

4.  What future experiences in travel do you envision, whether place or mode of travel?

Photo from Microsoft Office

(My answer: I wonder about moon travel, but I can't say I'm itching to go myself. I love the idea of traveling super fast--so that I could fly to Great Britain in an hour. It would be worth a little stomach lurching if it could save me 8 hours stuck in the middle of a five-person row of seats.)

But my answers aren't nearly as exciting as your answers. So get answering. You see, even if I drop the ball for months, I can still be impatient with others. Pretty cool, huh? So answer me already! 

Screaming

The bay door closes

The cacophony begins

Two little ones

Tired of sitting on their mothers' laps

Begin the wail of wails.

Mothers hush to no effect

Their voices taking turns with screams and cries

Which echo through the cabin

Curling all the hairs on necks

Of those without Bose headphones

Or hearing aids (turned down).

No use for it

No getting off

We can't just land the plane

And let the babies crawl around a bit

Nor can we get them sleeping

Their ear infection keeps them raging on

Four hours whine by

Grating, setting every nerve on edge

And as we stand to trudge on down the aisle

One passenger lies, "Your baby was so good!"

I fight the urge to flick her in the head.

Dear relatives,

Who want to see your lovely nieces'/nephews'/grandbabies' faces

Who nag and nag by phone to get a visit

Next time you feel the urge to nag

Do all of us a favor

Buy yourself a ticket

Get your own maturer self onto a plane

And go to see the family babies

To spare us all the torture.