To all of my travelling friends,
You know who you are. And I am so LUCKY to have you. We met in a bar. In a hostel. On the train. In a plane. In the airport. On a boat. On The Boat. Through a friend of a friend of a friend. On the trail. We went to school together. We lived, briefly, in the same place. We studied in the same place. Or nearby. Or maybe we work together. Or did.
We had three magical days in some random city somewhere. We drank wine. We painted the town red. Multiple nights in a row. We took shots with old Scottish men, with old Mexican men, with old American men. We let old men buy us drinks. We took advice on what to do from everybody. We crawled up mountains together. Slid down gravel trails after getting led in the wrong direction. Got soaked to the bone and dried out in front of a fire. Tasted whisky. Danced the night away to house music. Ran through the streets of Paris to catch the last bus. The last train. Road tripped. Found a cache of porcelain plates and smashed them on the rocks. Took shadow pictures. Laughed. Cried. Crowded four in a bed to watch a movie.
to all of my travelling friends
Laid on the beach. Soaked up the Spanish sun and got burnt doing it. The Turkish sun. The Italian sun. The Mexican sun and the Costa Rican sun. We ran through the rain in Glasgow. In Edinburgh. In London, in Ireland, and in New Zealand. We took the tube. We took the clockwork orange. We Subcrawled. We had graffiti parties. You drew on my shirt. A house. With red striped socks poking out from under it. You jokingly called me Dorothy. You asked me if I had a dog named Toto. You told me I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. I laughed. You laughed. We posed with stuffed Nessies. We went out on the Loch in hopes of catching a glimpse of the real Nessie. We took the train to the end of the tracks and kept walking. Slogged through the Highlands. Tramped in the rain in Ireland, in New Zealand, and in Alaska. Gaped at the fairy chimneys. At the cathedrals. At the mosques. Climbed to new heights. Saw Rome from the top of St Peters and from the bottom of the Mausoleum. At three am. Saw Barcelona from the top of Sagrada Familia and Florence from the top of the Duomo. Watched beluga whales from the top of a cliff in Svalbard. Walked the banks of the river, the tiny dirt paths, and across the swinging bridges in Cinque Terre.
We let people take our picture. Multiple ones. Because with the advent of digital cameras, we could finally see if it was the “right” picture. And soon, if it was the right profile picture. We added each other on Facebook. Tagged each other in pub crawl pictures. Labeled it “best night ever.” We had so many of those. We made t-shirts. With nicknames. Joked about “same ship, different day.” We never made those.
Rode horses down the beach. Kayaked among icebergs. Crowded into a bar as fireworks shot through the streets of Valencia. Stayed up til 6am. Slept til two pm and did it again. Copious amounts of coffee. Strange foods. Warm beer. Cold beer. Weak drinks. Strong drinks. Cute guys. Ugly guys. We explored foreign cities. Wandered through the streets. Got lost. Kept walking.
Took pictures. Took selfies. Camped. In the rain. Drank homemade wine. In Italy. In Turkey. In Spain. Laughed at “nice jugs.” We found cafes in alleyways. Some of the best places we’ve ever eaten. We invited others to join us. Made new friends. Slept with new guys. Watched them walk off with someone else. Cried into each others shoulders. Found new ones. Let them kiss us. Let them walk away. Promises of another night.
We pushed our limits. Climbed a mountain. A mountain made of sand dunes. Slid down the dunes. Let the wind whip through our hair and the salt spray tangle it. Thought we’d never make it. Wondered what it’s like to have a “real” job. Tried so hard not to be a “tourist.” We thought “tourist” was a bad thing. We tried it. Group tours. Organised trips. Organised pub crawls. Let someone else do the work.
It’s not so bad. But we’d rather do it on our own. We jumped off cliffs. Swam in crystal clear waters. Found a hidden swimming hole. Drank beers on the beach. In the sunset. Margaritas. Saw the Panama Canal. Wore jeans in hot weather to avoid the stares. They stare anyway. Tried to speak french. Spanish. Turkish. German. Italian. They’ll speak English back anyway. Farmers markets. Craft fairs. You bought me a bracelet. I gave you a kiss. We’ve seen Olympic stadiums. Slums. Homeless people. Rich kids. Ridden in limos. In the back of trucks. Buses. Trains. Slept in airports. Slept on trains. More accurately, didn’t sleep. Watched our stuff. Waited on check-in times. Dealt with Ryanair. Easyjet. Jetstar. Air Asia. Splurged on food. Watched parades. Joined parades. Held hands. Linked arms. Danced down the street. Twirled around light poles.
We jumped into frigid waters. Just to say we’d done it. Did it again. And again. Drank a shot of whisky afterwards. Watched killer whales at sunset. Watched humpbacks at sunset. Snorkeled with sea lions. Seen breaching whales 30 feet away. Monkeys in the trees. Crocodiles circling, waiting for one of us to fall in. Soccer games in the sand. Volleyballs in the sand. Sea turtles. Reef sharks. Coral reefs. More margaritas. Polar Bears, black bears, and brown bears. Banana slugs and jellyfish.
to all of my travelling friends
We have pictures. And prior to Facebook, we had emails. Phone numbers. Promises to meet in another time, in another place. I still have those pictures. They’re so old, some of them. But when I come across them, they remind me of you. Of the time we shared, whether that time was an hour, a day, a week, or more.
Like I said above, I am so LUCKY to have you. To have met you. To have known you, if only for a brief minute of my life. Maybe you’re still in it. Somehow. Maybe we live in the same city. Maybe we grab a drink when I’m in town. Maybe we see each other every few years. Every five years. Every ten years. We laugh about the old days. We laugh that we’re too young to call them “the old days.” Are we? It’s been ten years.
But maybe we don’t. We wish each other happy birthday, “like” wedding pictures. Baby pictures. Travel pictures. But as the years go on, they’re more the former. Because we’ve grown up and we’ve moved on. I still think of you. Certain songs remind me of you. And sometimes, when I’m somewhere out there, I see a person on the street that – for a second – looks like you. And I am thrown – catapulted – backwards in time. I see your smile, hear your laugh. I feel your arm across my shoulders as we weave down the street. Feel your hair brush my cheek as we dance in the lamplight. Feel you bump my hip as you laughingly tried to push me into a snowbank. Feel your hand in mine. Your arm around my waist. For a minute, it’s you.
And then, you’re gone. You’re a mirage in this beautiful world.
I can’t imagine the person I would be without you. Without having met you. Without the shared experiences that we’ve made. We took the minute and we ran with it. We took one giant leap of faith in meeting. In saying that one fatal word: hi. In becoming – for maybe just the briefest of seconds – friends. You have made me a better person.
Names are flowing through my mind as I write this, and there is no way I can ever write them all down. Because they are names for an eternity. For my eternity. Whenever I hear your name – your first name, so it might not even be you – I will think of YOU. Of our moments. And maybe I didn’t know your name. Maybe we were two people sharing a smile on the train. You helped me grab my bag. And then you were gone. But I paid it forward, and I helped someone else. You had an impact. And when I see someone wearing that shirt from that band, like the one you had on with your just-perfect-fit jeans and your scruffy beard, you’ll be the face in my mind. And just like that… I’m back in time. To your smile. Your laugh. That one knee-slapping joke you told at that one bar in that one city.
So – to all of my friends, my traveling ones, from every corner of this mad, mad world, thank you for making me a better human. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for being you. For letting me be me. With you.
Like this post? Pin it!