Born in Wanderlust
Armed guards ushered us through the streets of Cartagena. As a ten year old boy I thought it was pretty cool that we had our own private security. That was also the first time I ever had a real Coca-Cola in a glass bottle. The kind made with real cane sugar, like the Mexi-Cokes that abound in Californian taquerias.
Looking back today it may seem just a wee bit crazy that my parents thought it was a good idea to bring their children into the heart of the War on Drugs for vacation. Nevertheless, those early experiences surely have had a lasting effect on me.
We traveled a lot when I was young. It seemed we went on a vacation once or twice a year during my pre-teen and teenage years. Often on cruises, we bounced around throughout most of the Caribbean. Jamaica. Mexico. Puerto Rico. Virgin Islands. Dominican Republic. Saint Martin. Costa Rica. The Bahamas. Panama.
When I was fifteen we went to Israel. We also had armed guards during portions of that trip.
By the time I was eighteen I was ready to embark upon on my first parentless adventure. My childhood friend, Ben, had always yearned to visit his ancestral homeland, Wales. He planned a trip from the southern tip of Wales all the way to the northern end. Ben, Josh and I hiked most of the journey with packs on our backs. Stopping along the way in pubs, I recall getting drunk on cider and rum and cokes, and samping numerous Ploughman’s lunches along the way.
I kept a journal on that maiden voyage. On our first day in London I noted that “Ben and Josh ate McDonald’s for dinner. I waited and had fish and chips.” Haha. Of course I held out. Not much has changed since then. Even today I’m often not easily convinced to eat the first or easiest option presented to me in a foreign country. On our recent journey to New Zealand, I often dragged my father from restaurant to restaurant to assess and compare their menus.
“Josh and Ben don’t understand why I don’t want McDonald’s. Because I traveled thousands of miles! I guess I learned a few things from Mom and Dad.”
I sure did. Thanks Mom and Dad for instilling a sense of wanderlust in me.
