Remember that one time I said I was going to blog every day? Let’s just all have a good healthy laugh over that one, shall we? That being said, I have been traveling like a maniac lately.
I live in airports.
I sleep in terminals.
I work in coffee shops.
There are so many rewarding aspects to a career as a travel writer, but it has its serious down falls. Like now, for instance, I’m high over Mexico City, flying home from the last of two press trips. This is my eighth flight in eleven days- and I still have one more to go. I’m at Hour 3 of 8 hours total of flying today. I woke up at 4:45am; I won’t get home until midnight. Because this isn’t my first rodeo, I know when I walk in my front door tonight I’ll be exhausted, hungry and overwhelmed from an entire day of trying to get back.
For all of the frustrations and foibles of traveling, I wouldn’t trade these experiences for the world. The people I’ve met, the experiences I’ve been blessed to have, the ways my eyes have been opened to different people and cultures – I know the opportunity I am given to see the world is more than most people will get in a lifetime, yet still I find reasons to complain. Long lines, missed connections, hours spent waiting on the tarmac, hours spent waiting to board, hours spent waiting. Yet it seems every time I throw myself into an exasperated tizzy, I am quickly confronted by something or someone who teaches me better. For all the posh accommodations and luxury settings, these trips often are the times I am most humbled and most reminded of all the things I am so lucky to have at home – a supportive, loving family / admirable, true friends / the world’s most neurotic (but handsome!) dog / and a city that inspires me, grows me, and welcomes me back every time.