A few days ago I boarded a gloriously modern tube-o-metal/lawn dart to be projected through the great blue sky from the Old World back to the New (and subsequently back in time – as is my understanding of space-time physics). I left behind sunny blue skies, spring-like weather, a seriously amazing supply of beer, deliciously delicious coffee, and chocolates – oh so many chocolates.

To say that I’m suffering from the post travel blahs would be an understatement. It’s not that I’m unhappy to be home – quite the contrary. I spent New Year’s day on the couch vegging out quite contentedly with a very snuggly Elliot purring in my lap. New Year’s eve was spent celebrating with some of the best people I know. And I’m currently sitting in my favourite pub in an attempt to organize my year while also enjoying some excellent food and (shortly) some excellent beer. I have absolutely nothing to complain about, because my life is very complete.

And yet there’s this sense of wanderlust that never ever goes away; a need to travel that seems to be more noticeable and pervasive once I’ve returned from an adventure away. I often hear people indicating that they are homesick, or that they are looking forward to returning home. I honestly don’t get that – both in the sense that I never feel homesick, and in the sense that I don’t understand when people claim homesickness. In fact, I think I have the opposite of that. I think I suffer from travel-sickness; I never want to come home when I’m travelling, and I’m constantly looking forward to my next adventure.

Fortunately I won’t have to wait long as 2016 looks to be filled with adventure; some work related, some not work related. I don’t exactly know where some of these travels will take me, but candidate destinations include the US, the Canadian Arctic, Europe, Africa, and Asia.

Perhaps I’ll be able to survive this travel-sickness after all.


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