Less than two weeks into our Thailand adventure, I’m starting to recuperate from my latest case of travel amnesia.
Besides a mean dose of Montezuma’s revenge that has knocked me down a few pegs this week, what’s worse is the familiar realization that travel is uncomfortable.
Stomach problems related to foreign food is nothing new — though Thailand is vying for the worst travel bug of my life just behind an excruciating 3-day bus ride from Mexico to Oklahoma in high school. I learned in my early travel days that my body prefers routine and will retaliate when I detour from my normal habits. As it turns out, a year of traveling doesn’t exactly lend itself to routine.
I’m sunburnt, not sleeping well on thin springy mattresses, slightly grossed out by constantly wet bathroom floors, limping slightly from blisters on my feet and weak from the latest attack on my digestive system. So why do I keep doing this? Travel amnesia.
All it takes is one daydream of an exotic location, jagged mountains, a foreign culture, a perfect sunset, historical sites that send chills up my spine or white-sand beaches with crystal clear water to send me into a deep spiral that ends with me dragging my overloaded luggage into the unknown.
The pain, discomfort and exhaustion quickly fades at the thought of new adventures.
This is definitely not the year of least resistance so far, but there must be something to this if I keep drawing the same conclusion — it’s worth it.
What is your least favorite part of traveling? Leave your comment below.