On travel.Posted: August 3, 2011
Two and a half years ago, I traveled by myself through Ethiopia, India and the South Pacific. In terms of concrete creative output, that trip resulted in a novel, two plays, a short story and a dozen other percolating projects. But that’s just the surface stuff. The trip changed my life. It taught me how to really take care of myself.
Now I can’t imagine a creative life without travel. I can’t imagine life without it, period. How can I live on this earth without seeing everything I can, when I have the opportunity to?* And so, when I turned thirty, I looked at my list of Places I Want To Go and promised myself I’d see every one. I have no idea how it’s going to happen, but I’ll find a way.
First on my list are Belize and Costa Rica, a trip I’ll take this winter to celebrate completion and send-out of my first novel. And after that, the parchment unrolls…Varanasi. Florence. Istanbul. Cuba. Lake Bled. Rwanda. Portland. Iran. Kyoto. Oxford. Ghana. Buenos Aires. Ireland. Austin. Bali. Edinburgh. Asheville. Dakar. Thrissur. Laos. New Zealand. Vietnam. Providence. Lahore. New Orleans. Tanzania. Tel Aviv. Cameroon. Damascus. Vienna. Jerusalem. Barcelona. Palawan. Bhutan. Beirut. Banff. Sri Lanka. Socotra. Rajasthan. Cambridge. Heidelberg. Melbourne. Borneo. Petra. And last but not least, Ladakh.
That’ll keep me busy for a few years.
*I was born a middle-class American, which makes me one of the few people in the world who have the insane privilege of international travel. I’m thankful for it every day.