Every year we do about three weeks of independent traveling. We LOVE it! But, you know, everyone says that. “Oh, I love to travel…” It’s great party chatter. Or so I’ve heard. I’ll be honest, I don’t go to a lot of parties, I’m super socially awkward, and not in that supposedly charming way that everyone swooned about a few years ago.
But I digress.
Here’s my theory on the love of travel: every human is different… and we process things differently… therefore, the experience of travel will mean something completely different to each person.
Here’s what travel means to ME: relationship. I feel like it’s the very best marriage counselling anyone could have. Or, at least, it’s been fantastic for me. For three weeks at a time, Andrew and I run all over the world, throwing ourselves into uncomfortable situations, unable to find food when we’re hungry, missing entire nights of sleep, getting lost, getting ripped off. Now, that’s not the entire sum of our travel experiences — not by a longshot. But what I’m saying is, we’re setting ourselves up to see each other at our very worst, dangerously low blood sugar and all — and we deal with it head-on, and come out of the experience knowing each other better and loving each other stronger. And it’s been absolutely incredible. And we’ve had many fantastic adventures along the way, too. Some very hilarious adventures. I can’t wait to share them here!
(Featured image: bathroom mirror shot in Franschhoek, South Africa… because there just aren’t that many photos of us together! 🙂