School ended for me about three days ago. Well, I guess you could say that the actual “school” part of school ended last Tuesday, but I didn’t actually pack all my belongings until about three days ago. Who knew I had so much stuff? And an apparent boot addiction?
Having spent the last two days in Phoenix, I didn’t get the chance to fully unpack my things until a few hours ago. I dislike the whole unpacking process. For one thing, it’s a chore and secondly, it marks the end of an adventure. I’m not talking about my brief stay in Arizona, but the past year’s events.
This last week was full of last hurrahs before the end of the semester, along with the accumulation of boxes and duct tape, and goodbyes. I watched as the girls in my building tightly hugged their neighbors-turned-lifelong-friends, choking back tearful goodbyes, making promises to visit/write each other as often as possible during the four months of summer.
Of course I too said my goodbyes to my friends, roommates, and neighbors, but for some reason couldn’t force myself into sadness over the ordeal. It’s not that I won’t miss these good people – I will – but perhaps not to the point of tears. Like I said before, I’m not much of a crier – I didn’t cry during Les Miserables, and I still feel bad about that.
Maybe just the knowledge that it would only be four months until we’re all back in the same place again is what kept me from being downcast. I wasn’t overly excited about going home either, so I know that’s not what allowed me to keep a cool demeanor during my goodbyes. Or maybe I’m an emotionless cylon?
Or the fact is, I like to keep moving. To live out of a suitcase, not staying in one place for too long. I adore the anticipation I sense in an airport, or train or subway station of those who have somewhere to be and a list of adventures to tackle during their time abroad. It doesn’t matter if it’s a business trip or an exotic getaway – I love the idea of traveling the road less traveled by that particular traveler.
I’ve seen the Grand Canyon, gone through the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, strolled the streets of Minneapolis covered in beautiful snow, wandered LA and Hollywood at night, snorkeled in Maui, traveled through the poorest parts of Mexico, skied in NorCal, hiked among the Sequoias in Yosemite, dipped my toes in the Floridian waters, and am quite accustomed to the gas station bathrooms and low maintenance motels I’ve encountered on far too many road trips. I’ve collected a myriad of postcards over the past eleven years. I also attribute my love of trail mix to the long hours of road tripping.
I’ve seen a lot, so what’s the problem? I haven’t gone everywhere.
The other day, my sister made an [admiring] comment about how much traveling I would be doing during my stay in college. As a science major, she has less leeway when it comes to making credits earned abroad count for her major back in the states. I merely replied, “I spent weeks mapping it out that way.”
I like constancy, this is definitely true of me. But I also like hitting the road, anticipating the next thing. And if I can implement my love for new adventures into my academic life, so be it. APU will be there for me in four months, and so will all the great people I’ve come to know. But until then, I’m already Googling what shenanigans I can get into with my friends here, and in what new hotspot.