Itchy itchy...
“I’ve been home for nearly 4 months. My feet are so itchy, it feels like I got athlete’s foot.”
Okay, it was a bad joke. But that’s what Twitter’s for, right?
It’s not that I’m counting the days (not really). It’s not that I’m unhappy in my life at home or looking for escape. It’s just that I have this “incurable wanderlust” (what @cultoftravel speculated was worse than swine flu), and the more I read about travel, write about travel, tweet about travel, and am generally immersed in a virtual sea of travel, the worse it gets. I don’t have any problem going to a bar and not drinking, but reading travel blogs and knowing I won’t be doing any serious adventuring for a few more months—well, that’s tough. Ever since my first trip, I’ve gotten antsy when I’ve stayed at home too long. This whole travel writing business is adding a little more heat to the ring of fire.
I may be chomping at the bit, but it’s all good stuff that’s keeping me home. I have a niece on the way, my dad is retiring, and I have four friends getting married in the early half of the summer. All totally happy, exciting things that I’m grateful to be a part of. Plus it gives me a chance to save up for my next long trip, a three-monther around Southeast Asia.
In the mean time, I’m plotting a little solo California roadtrip for next month. Partly to visit an old friend, partly to see the swallows of San Juan Capistrano. Partly because I haven’t driven down Highway 1 since I was a kid, and partly because I’m curious what kind of conversations you get into with yourself after days of driving solo. Partly to debunk my own stereotypes of Southern California as a cultural wasteland of SUVs, strip malls and Kardashians, and partly to practice toting my laptop on the road with me. But, honestly, the trip is largely a keep-me-sane tide-me-over until the funds and circumstances—aka The Travel Gods—see fit to unleash me on the world again.
So as my feet are itching, my fingers twitching and my plans to high-tail it down the highway taking shape, I uncovered an old poem about restlessness, impulsivity and the physical road that hit the spot.
MacArthur Maze
Let’s drive this thing
into the blood burning sky.
/
Let’s take this road
potholed and hissing
past the pitched roofs
and pigeon wings,
past electrical wires
and blown-out streetlamps,
brown hills
where the grass cackles
and waits
to be lit.
/
Let’s curve
into the black, under
the overpass, past
the vacated bodies,
curled in and sighing—
/
Let’s take this thing
where it leads,
if it leads,
or stampedes
/
us into a sunburnt sky
the color of our own
sunburnt skin.
Now get me on the road!
I can empathise with your itchy feet, though I guess I don’t get it so much since I’m so lucky to live where I do (though I would like to get out more). My problem is the times I do return home, I suffer from this sort of intense reverse culture shock!
Love the poem!
don’t forget about Hawaii my sweet sister. it’ll be an adventure of a much different type.
i learned a great lesson from a 3 year old, named Zaia. i was very excited to take her to the park and play. this was no ordinary park but a park of my childhood. mashed together with vivid color my mind blended dreams and reality of my youth spent at this park. i had not returned to this friend for many many years but still the park echo in my solo. much like returning home, my heart oozed into every inch of my being, excitement. i could not wait to share this with someone so deserving, perhaps she was the only one who could love this place the same.
she walked ungodly slow, stopping at this flower and that one, jumping on this rock and that one. chasing butterflies, chasing squirrels, staring at ants, anything and everything but walking. didn’t she know how wonderful this park was, what a gift i was going to show her. no amount of encouragement or prodding would move her along. i was growing impatient. at this rate we would never make it to the park. i was angry. then, my wife to be at that time, Emily said ‘who cares shes having fun.’
i got it, sometimes its not about the destination it about the trip, the travel. the path is often more important then the places we go.
I’m starting to feel the same way, but I don’t have any real trips planned 😦 You should let me know when you’re going to be traveling through Anaheim – we should have coffee or tea or whatev! Email me 🙂
LOVE the poem, absolutely love it. Wow. Of course, I’m a fan of your work in general, but this poem really jumped off the page. I feel it. I think this poem’s wanderlust is contagious!
Oh, it’s like old times. We just need to get Judith and that cinnamon bread in the mix!
Thanks for the love, lady.
You and I, my dear, are two of a kind!
Oh, I’m jealous about your Highway 1 road trip! Well, sort of. I’m not big on solo car trips, I’d rather go with a buddy for that sort of trip…but I can’t wait to live it vicariously through you!
I am sooo feeling this too. I’m going on a big trip in June but that still seems so far away. While I love living in Hawaii, it does make spontaneous trips to new places a little trickier.
Hawaii, eh? I’m headed to Kona in late May—can I hit you up for some tips?
Ah, I shoulda said Oahu. I haven’t made it to the Big Island yet, but have a great time!
At last! Someone who undsertnads! Thanks for posting!