megfowler.com

I don’t travel much.

This has always been somewhat of an embarassment to me over the years.

My friends? Always coming or going or planning or saving for the next big jaunt.

Me? A fervent admirer of photos and keepsakes, and a master at describing exactly where I would wish to go, and exactly why, if I could or would or had the time.

Well enough, as a matter of fact, that people have begun to dream of trips because of my words. Trips they eventually plan and take.

I see them off at airports and welcome them home with clean apartments and mail stacked in the corner and windows opened to get rid of month-old stuffy air.

It’s hard to say why, really.

It’s not like these people always had more money or time than I did — though, to be perfectly honest, I have a tendency to choose jobs that don’t lend themselves to travel budgets or schedules — or that they had more zest for living.

No… sometimes they were utterly malcontented people, with little appreciation for life. Not many of them, but a few.

But, man, they sure knew how to take that lack of appreciation on the road.

I’d choose instead to work ridiculous hours at jobs and spend the money that didn’t go to bills and student loans on heaven only knows what.

Not a house.

Not cars.

Not a wedding.

Not children.

Perhaps coffee?

It’s rather silly, in any case. And — you’ve probably figured this out already — it was my own stupid fault.

So, at 32, it occurred to me that this needed to change. Maybe a small change to start, but a change.

That’s why I’m in San Diego today. That’s why we spent six days getting here and why we’re spending this time seeing everything we can see in the time we have and why I’ve fallen in love with the palm tree and the Spanish tile roof and waves.

WAVES!

We don’t have many of those in Vancouver.

I’ve seen whales and sunsets and brilliant acting and some really attractive waiters and cliffs and beaches. I’ve gawked at stately homes and fascinating homes and tiny, perfect homes. I’ve gazed at vistas entirely uncommon to me and vistas I recognize in a slightly more chilly form. I’ve bought more flip flops and passed out in the middle of Sephora and tried on shoes in a department store with a name I can barely pronounce.

I’ve had a lot of coffee and Fiji water.

And a lot of laughs and grins and “OH!”s.

I’ve loved the time with Catherine, deepening our friendship and being amazed at how irritated we DON’T make one another.

And Eric? A gem. A killer tour guide. And a fervent wearer of white socks.

I love San Diego.

I love vacation.

I love being somewhere other than where I usually am.

And I think I’ve been bitten by the “bug.”

We’ll see. I’ll worry about it later. For now, I have a zoo to go to.