There's always been a tiny seed there, residing primarily in close proximity to the tip of my heart, and which does, on occasion, migrate elsewhere (but always returns). Stubbornly dormant through plenty of opportunities to bloom, the seed finally got a chance at survival with an accidental foray into Paris for a day. That was the day new life began in this seed, this desire, this, polestar of curiosity to walk out into the world and see what's there.
That was the trip that made me an unintentional solo traveler, where I was presented with a choice, like so many things, and was able to choose from two options. To do... or to not do. I was traveling alone to Spain to meet with a large, pre-organized group of classmates and teachers, when my layover was suddenly rerouted to Paris (instead of Boston) and the layover lengthened to about 7 hours. So, to go in to Paris or not? Leave my safety net at the airport, where guards could keep me safe, where I knew I wouldn't miss my next flight, where McDonalds and vending machines and airport attendants so kindly anticipated my inability to speak French and therefore never offered an opportunity to practice? Or, should I ask the gentleman next to me to see his Paris guidebook, jot down directions from Charles de Gaulle to the Eiffel Tower and see what happens in the next 5 or 6 hours? With the possibility of pain au chocolate in my immediate future, I chose the latter and struck out for Paris. While the trip had it's negatives (a 'learning experience' with a group of pick-pockets, a frustrating inability to pass through train barriers correctly, and relatively grim weather) it did, on the whole, give me the most exhilarating sense of adventure and freedom (perhaps all the greater for the negatives). I was loose, and wild, and at my own whim and discretion, with no premeditation on where to go or what to do. And so I wandered.
And so I shall continue to...
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