The Trouble with Travel

Once you've left the continent, you immediately become a snob. You'll come back to the States, and nothing will ever be the same. You may start sentences with, "Well, when I was staying in a Parisian studio apartment ... " and "I actually saw that in real life ... " Eye rolls will follow.

Spending a Saturday binge watching House of Cards or strolling through the mall will feel like a major failure. You will let out a heavy sigh and think back to the moment you reached the top of a mountain that looked over Ediburgh, Scotland, just hours after sitting in the very chair J.K. Rowling sat in when she had the Harry Potter lightbulb moment.

As soon as you come home from your excursion, you will immediately begin scheming how you will go back. You will somehow justify spending $7,000 so you and your husband can go on a tour of the Greek Isles, but walk immediately to the clearance section when entering any store. OK, so we thought about doing the Greece thing. It has been my dream for at least a decade, but we're settling for something else that won't put such a big dent in our bank account. The husband reminded me there might be more essential things to spend our money on in the near future. Adulthood. What a crock.

When you return from your trip around the world, you may find that you develop a form of OCD. You will often check flights to various locations on your "to-go" list. You cry when you see the prices, but you can't help but continue looking, thinking that some day you will find a flight at half price. Dream on.

And then sometimes, when you're having a bad day, you will click on the photo folder that contains all the images captured on your adventures. You will look at them to remind yourself that you did know excitement and bliss at one point in time. You will study these still memories that are full of vibrancy and movement, and you will not feel any better about your current situation. You will feel helpless because you don't have ruby slippers to take you where you want to go.

I'm sure many of you are appalled that I am being at all negative about having these amazing opportunities. But it's because of the smells, the art, the architecture, the languages and the commotion that I'm bitter. I want it every day. Not to say Orem, Utah, isn't the bee's knees. It has its redeeming qualities, kind of.

Thanks to Europe and South America, the bar has been raised. I am always searching for the next memory to make, even if it is in my backyard. I will never settle for a sleepy Saturday.