I've been thinking lately that the standard advice encouraging people to travel when they're young misses something. I've been thinking that with a little bit of age and life experience, traveling means something deeper to me. I've honed some of my passions and talents - writing, and what I look for and seek out when I travel - that were only just budding when I lived abroad as a student and was still pink with fresh-out-of-college newness. Photography has become a hobby, and I see photos I took then that are out of focus and lacked an eye for composition, and I wistfully think, "If only I could do that again now, a little older, a little less green." But then I read my photo captions on those blurry ones, and they're bursting with uninhibited joy and fervor for life, without a trace of self-doubt, and I feel the happiness on the face of that girl then fall onto the lips 27-year-old me now. And I wouldn't trade having traveled then without what I know now for anything. I should be so lucky to be 21 again, my first time in the world - eyes wide with wonderment and a camera memory card packed to capacity with a shot of every elephant I see.
bylines...
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