Saturday, September 15, 2012


I suffer from this thing called:

I could name the places I haven't been, but it would easier to name the places I have been. I lived in the Caribbean. I have been sailing in the British Virgin Islands. I visited St. Croix for a swim meet. I have been to Washington DC, Virginia, Pennsylvania, Delaware, Maryland, Illinois, Texas, Kansas, Oklahoma, South Dakota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Arizona, Colorado, California, Nevada. I spent ten days in England. I went to Belize when I was five. I go on road trips. I board planes. I pack bags and live out of suitcases for days. But somehow it just isn't enough to stop the travel bug.

I have this desire to travel everywhere and I'll be darned if I don't achieve that goal. The next place I want to go is Spain. Or Italy. Or Greece. Or Thailand. Let's get real. I can't decide where I want to go next. Maybe it'll be Hawaii for college or maybe it will be a year traveling. I don't know. I do know that I blame my Grandma Packard for passing the traveling gene to me. It's all her fault for being an independent woman who  was granted a Fulbright Scholarship and traveled Europe with that. But then again, I could blame my Grandpa Packard for the traveling gene. He has been a fair amount of places himself. His brother, my great Uncle Jay, is an artist who lives in London. I guess it is hereditary. 

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