Tomorrow The Banker and I will hop on a red-eye for a quick jaunt over to Scotland. That sounds so glamorous and cosmopolitan. Of course by ‘hop’ I mean throw back two glasses of wine at the airport bar before shuffling over to pre-board with grannies and frazzled parents. By ‘red-eye’ I mean subject myself to a serious case of time travel induced barfiness. I fully expect to be met at the gate in Glasgow by two or three Dementors who will suck what remains of my life force from my jet-lagged and weary body.
Castles, whiskey and food dares, oh my.
Many, if not most people travel to enjoy a reprieve from their daily struggles and stressors. But for those of us whose biggest worries are health related, travel is anything but an escape. Traveling exaggerates every single underlying symptom and physical challenge we face. It is hard. There is no vacation from MS. In fact, MS would be a lot less glaring if I were to just throw back my wine on my comfy couch and binge watch House of Cards. Negotiating cobblestones, strange food, weird bathrooms, lack of sleep and inaccessible transit sucks. There will be frustration. There will probably be some tears. There will most certainly be whiskey.
So, aside from the drinking, why am I so excited?
Despite all of this, I freaking love travel. It is in my bones. And I especially love to travel with, and to, my favourite people around the planet. I will endure all of the associated unpleasantness because it is in seeing new places and experiencing the unfamiliar that we are awakened. We must keep moving, keep having new adventures and creating new memories with the people we love, who challenge us and help us to better understand ourselves. Every time we travel we are changed a little bit for having had the pleasure and the pain.