When I met Andrea, I wouldn’t have described myself as “well-travelled”, although I likely had seen more of the United States than the average person. However, a significant part of that was from when I was really small, when we lived in Colorado, and my parents would take us around to some parts of the West. It was also from the actual journeys from New York to Denver and back, three years later, by car. I don’t remember much of those odysseys except that somewhere around St. Louis, there was a giant McDonald’s arch.  

After we moved to New Jersey when I was seven, we visited various parts of Maryland, New Hampshire, and the Jersey Shore. Still, I wouldn’t consider them “travel” experiences, even though I probably should. I loved those trips, but somehow, they don’t feel like travel. 

In college, I was fortunate enough to visit Tacoma/Seattle and Shreveport as part of Forensic Club trips, and they left a lasting impact on me that I couldn’t shake. Just the sight of snow-capped Mt. Rainier looming over the lushness of Puget Sound moved me, almost spiritually. Still, it was the bustle and activity at Seattle’s Public Market that left the lasting impression. The sights, smells, and sounds in that crisp air as we explored that cool little corner of the United States are something you experience, not something you read about or look at in pictures. A camera can capture, to a certain extent, the majesty of Mt. Rainier, but it can’t capture what it’s like to narrowly miss being hit by a fish thrown through a crowded stall.

When I went to Shreveport, I was traveling with other students from the forensics team, most of whom I barely knew. One day, with some free time, we decided to drive into Texas and see how close we could get to Dallas with the time we had. We did not have a plan, really. We just hopped in the car and headed out. We stopped at a couple of places along the way and met different people (one of whom recognized us as being from the Northeast because we spoke too quickly), and it felt so natural to me. 

We ended up calling another audible and drove up to where Texas, Arkansas, and Louisiana touched, but sadly, it was no Four Corners. I enjoyed that travel, and it wasn’t just the new people we met; it was sharing that time with the people I was with in the car and learning about them. I barely remember the spot where the three states touched, but I do recall the laughter, observations, and sights from being in that car for hours.

During my sophomore year in college, a friend and I went out to visit my brother, who was at Purdue, my friend’s brother, and my best friend from high school, both of whom were at Notre Dame. We made stops in Pittsburgh and a few other spots along the way. It was just a long weekend road trip, but I loved every minute of it, and I still think about it a lot. I loved the experience of building anticipation as you journey across the miles, passing through small and large towns, and contemplating the countless people you cross paths with. Then, on the return, re-living the experience, playing back in my mind the big and small moments and the anticipation of sleeping in my own bed. I have great memories of spending time with my friends and hanging out with my brother, but there was something about the excitement of being in the car and that sense of freedom. 

It wouldn’t be until later in life (maybe even in this moment as I type this) that I realized the fact that I enjoyed the premise of travel as much as I liked the places we went to. It was the actual act of traveling that I enjoyed.

When Andrea came along, she opened my eyes a bit by telling me about her trip to Spain the previous summer. I found it so interesting, but the thought of it scared me. Throughout the early part of our relationship, she would talk about taking me to Spain, and I honestly hated the idea. I was fine not seeing the world. I was fine limiting myself where I was. Travelling to Europe, out of the country, was terrifying to me. However, I knew that if I stayed with Andrea, the trip to Spain was absolutely inevitable.

Sure enough, early in our marriage, we took that trip to Spain. My expectations were low, bordering on negative, if that is possible. However, I held an open mind, and that trip would change me forever and alter my perspective on travel (spoiler alert — it was awesome).

Since then, we have been to St. Martten, Mexico City (and Teotihuacan), (back to) Spain, Portugal, Norway, and a majority of the states in the U.S.

In the summer of 2023, Benjamin and I embarked on a dream trip, driving across the United States over the course of two weeks. Being “out on the open road” feels like such a cliche, almost pompous. However, to drive through the sweeping grasslands of Kansas one day and breathe in the sweet pine air of the Colorado Rockies the next is just magical.

Sure, you can have pictures and videos of the Grand Canyon, the Alhambra in Spain, or the midnight sun on a beach in Norway, and they might be amazing. But you can’t get the tangible and intangible experience of being there. You don’t experience the depths and majesty and how small we really are by looking at a picture of the Grand Canyon. You can’t smell the centuries of spices that seem to have ingrained themselves in the walls of the Alhambra. You can’t feel the warmth of the long cast rays of a Golden hour that does not seem like it will ever go away, and experience the surreal feelings of being with hundreds of other people at midnight, exploring everything that the long rays touch.

With the trips we have taken, we haven’t spent long periods in any one place. When we visited both Spain and Norway, we explored large parts of the country by moving around on planes, trains, boats, and automobiles, an approach I really love. Sure, there were times when I wished we had a little more time to spend someplace (this happened a few times on the cross-country U.S. trip), but for the most part, I love that moving around, even if it is initially stressful.

When we wanted to see Barcelona, we decided to stay in a town called Tossa de Mar on the Mediterranean coast. We had driven for more than ten hours that day and arrived at 2 AM. The streets were narrow and still full of people walking around, and we struggled to find our hotel. I was tired and overwhelmed, and instantly hated the city.

However, that city would become one of my favorite places in Spain —and perhaps the world. I’ve discussed it further in other posts, and the point of this isn’t what I loved so much about it. The fact is that travel can be extraordinarily stressful and absolutely amazing at the same time. 

Even realizing that, travel still is one of my most significant stressors. I did not grow up in that travelling mentality, and my initial reaction to a proposed new adventure is to resist and say “no”. At times, I find the mere thought of getting in the car to go somewhere debilitating. I am an introvert by nature, and there are many people out there beyond my walls. To see these places, you need to be around people. I need to remove myself from what is comfortable…from what I know. I do enjoy the routine of my life. I enjoy spending my evenings watching TV and messing around on my phone. It is what relaxes me. So, leaving that behind for some unknown place often scares the hell out of me.

The night before I took the boys to meet Andrea in Mexico City, I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. In the days leading up to Ben and my cross-country trip, I worried about the car, finding places to sleep, and being in unfamiliar places (all things that continued to linger in the back of my mind throughout the trip). Prior to Norway, I wondered what the hell we had gotten ourselves into.

The getting-ready-to-go part of travel really scares me, and if I gave in to that fear, I’d never ever travel. All the things that could go wrong…All the potential problems and unexpected unknowns cause me to want to withdraw. Obviously, I push forward, trust Andrea and/or the plans, and go. And not once have I ever regretted the travel.

I know not everyone can travel like this, and I truly feel blessed and fortunate to have had these experiences. I often feel a sense of unease and awkwardness when discussing these travels, knowing that not everyone has these opportunities. Even writing about how you need to experience these places beyond the photographs makes me feel like an ass because I know so many people simply don’t have the resources to make these types of trips.

These days, I find myself constantly daydreaming about not just the places I have been, but the places I want to see. My brain schemes on how I can break free and get away. I want to get back out on the road and explore the places in the United States we missed, or spend more time at the great places we’ve already visited. I want to stand at the base of the Treasury in Petra and explore the other buildings around that canyon that you don’t see in movies. I want to breathe the cool, fresh air of the Andes as I stand among the ruins of Machu Picchu and fight against altitude sickness. 

There are so many places I want to see, and I look forward to my next adventure.