Traveling has been my passion since I stepped out of a taxi and onto Rue Cambon in Paris in 1986. I knew at that instant that no matter what happened, I would be fine in Paris. In a way, I felt like I was returning home.
Since 1986 I have traveled to 20 countries, many of them with my friend Tom. I have always stated that living out of a suitcase is never a chore and is always good for my soul. While traveling, I never am ready to come home.
Now, after a year of enforced at-homeness, with no travel options available, one would think I would be lining up journeys left and right. Oddly, it isn't happening. For some reason, I am reluctant to plan a trip, even a small drive-up-the-coast car trip. This attitude is puzzling and depressing. And sad.
There are probably underlying reasons for my hesitancy but I can't find them and part of me doesn't want to go to the trouble of analyzing my travel paralysis. It seems like too much bother. It seems easier to simply stay home.
Therefore, I am scouring the internet for places to stay north and south and east of Sonoma County. Part of me feels as if I must make myself get out of the comfort of home and part of me knows that it is imperative to change the venue of my day-to-day life for a short time. Otherwise, I am afraid I will become wedded to my 200 square foot cottage in a way that is not beneficial to my mind, my psyche, my soul. Bottom line, I need to get my travel mojo back.
I will keep you posted on when and where the open road takes me.
Cathedral in Lyons, France.
Window display in Paris.
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