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Rated: E · Prose · Travel · #2227436
The relentless dream of traveling the world...
If money were no object, I would be traveling to the ends of the earth. I would take trains through Europe, stopping wherever looked interesting and staying for as long as it kept my interest. I would go to sleep, listening to the clackity-clack on a train in Rome and wake up in Brussels, or Paris. I would live out of a backpack, rinsing clothes out at night to be dry (hopefully) by the time I needed pants in the morning. I’m not even thinking of wet pants in the morning.

I would try interesting foods, but not TOO interesting. I wouldn’t eat eel or snake or sheep’s testicles or eyeballs. By interesting, I mean pizza topped with escargot or inky-black pasta with veal. I tried oysters once; I couldn’t get it down my throat which had closed down for the night. Clams are just like oysters and I just can’t. Asian food would be a challenge although I love American Asian food. No to sushi anywhere in the world.

I would write every night about my experiences that day, and of course, every article I wrote would be immediately bought by the largest travel magazines or large newspaper travel sections. The money would all just automatically be deposited in my debit account, keeping me in comfort and security. I would know my camera inside out and would take incredible pictures that would also sell like hotcakes.

I would learn to dance in every country. I’d know how to tango in the sexiest manner, dance in circles in Jewish weddings (of course I’d be invited!), and do the Irish jig in the pubs with total strangers. I know my knees wouldn’t be able to do that Russian dance that I’ve seen. One bounce on these knees and I’d be headed home for surgery!

I would travel the United States in a small motor home and visit every National Park. I’d put my bare feet into the Pacific, The Gulf of Mexico, all the Great Lakes, and into my “home” ocean, the Atlantic. I would take a cruise into Alaska and stay a spell just to get to know these strong and sturdy people who call Alaska home. I want to see the sun when it doesn’t set, but I don’t want to be there when the sun never comes up. I’d love to travel through the Canadian Rockies in a train with wide windows and good wine.

I would fly to the Scandanavian countries and sleep in a cabin with no roof so I could fall asleep under the Aurora Borealis, listening to the soft crackle of the wood fire in the stove. I would steep in the steamy pools in Iceland. I would sip Prosecco while in Venice on a gondola with a handsome guide singing a love song just to me. I would visit Normandy Beach and have a good cry. I would visit Vietnam and cry harder.

I would be gracious and fly my husband to meet me in New Zealand for a fishing trip of a lifetime for him before we visited the wild expanse of Australia. ‘Roos would be a destination in their own. I’d want to see the Great Barrier Reef but from a glass-bottom boat; there are just too many poisonous things in the water there. I can taste the icy sauvignon blanc, feel the icy droplets of water on the crystal glass, as I watch sunset. Sensuous sleepiness pulls me in.

“RRRRIIIINNNGGGGG!!!” screams the alarm clock.

That damned dream just won’t leave me alone.
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