My life has been one of constant migration. I have spent all of it moving from one place to another, and when I’m finally in one place, I can’t help of thinking where the road will take me next. Growing up, I moved from all around the world, from city to city. The longest time I have ever spent in one place was in a house in Maryland, in a suburb of DC. I was there from the time I was 5 to about 10. Growing up didn’t stop my nomadic lifestyle. Even in college, I couldn’t stay put. After two years at UCLA, I transferred across the country to UVA, and after college, I moved to Sydney for grad school. A few more years later I find myself in San Francisco.
Travel is an addiction. It gets under your skin and itches like crazy if you don’t scratch it. You miss the hustle bustle of the airports and oddly, that horrible sticky feeling you have when you get off the airplane. The taste of the air of a new, unknown location and the anticipation and excitement of trying to figure out how to get around.
A new place is a new place and has an amazing experience to offer. Whether it’s a far off beach and mountain in a country on the other side of the planet, or the town next door, there is something new to discover. The world is such a vast, diverse and amazing place. It has gotten to me and I can’t let go.
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