I have loved travel for as long as I can remember. My parents instilled that in me at a very young age. Our summers, and a lot of our weekends, were spent travelling in our RV. We did a lot of local trips here in Alberta but also went on some long haul journeys. We drove to Alaska, across Canada, and to Southern California, just to name a few. I loved seeing new places and learning about the history and culture. Social Studies was always my favourite subject in school.
The travel bug bit me hard in eleventh grade, when I took my first trip to Europe. It was a school trip and the first time I had ever been on a plane (I was so nervous!) We started in London and made our way down to Paris. And then I fell in love. Not puppy-dog, high school love. This was true love. The kind of love that consumes you, that pains you to be away from. The kind of love that lasts forever.
Was I in love with Paris? Oh yes! But more so, I was in love with the entire experience of travelling. I could not get enough. I wanted to see as much as I could, learn as much as I could, make the most of every minute. Travelling by bus, I would look around and see people sleeping and think, What is wrong with you people! You are missing out! I even enjoyed simple landscapes as they were fleeting past my window.