White Horse Beach, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

White Horse Beach, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA
White Horse Beach, Manomet, Plymouth, Massachusetts, USA

Saturday, September 21, 2013

Travel

About 25 years ago I took a trip to Portugal.  In one town, I stayed in an inexpensive rooming house for a couple nights.  I will never forget the above sign that was in the bathroom.  It reminds me that every time I go to a foreign country and attempt to speak the language, it probably isn't going to come out just right. 

And all those years ago I looked differently......

.....no gray hair, nor wild eyebrows, nor other obvious signs of aging.  The backdrop in this photo is an old castle in Portugal. We paid an old man with a small rowboat to row us across the river to gain access.  We were the only ones there.  

Travel can offer a glimpse of the unknown and unexpected, of things neither seen nor done at home........

.....like this tender moment between two "wild" Barbary macaques (they run free but are acclimated to humans) on top of the Rock of Gibraltar.......

......or watching the day unfold from high atop a white hill town in Spain........

......or the delight of this young girl in Ecuador using a camera for her first time........

.....or a patient fisherman in Mexico mending his nets in the shade of the day.

Travel can create an uncertainty and awkwardness that focuses attention in the present moment. It is a challenge to be a stranger in someone else's country.  

The big leap beyond occasional traveler is being an expat. I am intrigued by the concept of being an expat. I regularly read blogs by others who are expats. The idea of leaving one's homeland and trying to make a go of it elsewhere is enticing - becoming a part of a new and different culture with the intent of staying there. 

Seems like there are two basic types of people: nomads or homesteaders. Nomads have the urge to move - there is more to life than staying put in the same place.  A nomad sees dreams and adventures and possibilities somewhere different than at home. What drives the nomad? Is the nomad missing a part that needs to be filled?  

Right now I call Plymouth, Massachusetts in the United States home (an hour from Boston pictured above) but, I still have the itch - there is something else, somewhere else calling me to come visit and/or stay. I think that travel makes me more than I am - and I like that. 

"After to open the hot water, wait that it arrived. Please."


2 comments: