Aimee’s World Tour

Domestic Travel – What is it?

I fear that the thrill of flying from one side of the country to the other has lost a bit of it’s edge.  Five and a half hours to Arizona pales in comparison to  the 24-hour bus ride from Paris to Poznan that left my ankles swollen.   Two and a half day train rides in China have set the bar pretty high.

And while it’s a major relief NOT to have to go through immigration, there is something special about that stamp.  That hard to read stamp.  The stamp that surrenders letters and numbers to insufficient ink and unenthusiastic employees.  The stamp that can only be properly identified by you.  The stamp you earned.

I suppose it’s only natural to want something to show for your efforts.  But let’s face it – there’s not much effort into flying from Newark to Phoenix Sky Harbor.

After crossing so many borders, the traveling itself becomes near and dear to your heart.  Funny the things you start to miss.

It’s all mental.  All in your head.  It’s how much you can mentally push your physical capabilities.  It’s how you see the world around you.

My latest journey is especially heavy on the mind.

With a myriad of travel adventures yet unwritten, I have to carefully stow them away for safe keeping while I take on this latest challenge.

Eighteen chapters lie before me in my Ace Personal Training Manual.  Thirty pounds still weigh heavy on my frame.  The freedom of the passport is futile as I return to the country of my youth.   And the price of prancing across continents smacks me in the face as I settle into my parents house and battle NJ’s public transportation or rather lack thereof.

It’s not so glamorous.  Nor mysterious.  But it is vital.

Without a solid base, my life of worldly experiences leaves something to be desired.

So on the bookshelf you go, your pages packed with colorful stamps, dates and cities – your wear and tear – your stories.

But you and I are always partners.  We will reunite one day.  I just have a few things to take care of first.