One plane ride. Two meals. Eight hours.
The fight for sleep is brutal and patience is required. And we thought this would be easy. My body says it is 3am but the captain promptly notifies us it is 8am. We rub the sleep (or no sleep) from our eyes and groggily wish each other a good morning.
Muscles ache. Bones ache. Everything aches. The noise grows, swells, and fluctuates as the golden morning sun winks at us through the small windows.
22 clearly Americans make their way to the tube. We fumble around the station running into numerous delays, unaccustomed to this foreign land. And there isn’t even a language barrier yet. I was echoing the thoughts of the natives around us. Tourists, my mind spat.
All I can think about is the group of loud Americans that we are and what labels have been slapped on our foreheads. Stereotypes are made for a reason.
Sincerely smelling the roses,
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one’s lifetime.” -Mark Twain
There is something magical about the night before taking off on a big trip. Packing lists are being read and reread, sleep is nowhere to be found, and the ominous I know I forgot something hangs on every thought. Treading on new terrain is something incomparable to anything else on this planet. When taking that first step into a country that occurs as a stranger, you have to be aware that something drastic has changed and you will be a better person for it.
Travel is an essential component to the demise of a small mind. So, get out into the world and expose your horizons to the vast experiences that await. Embrace the mess that is our little blue dot and get out there and smell those roses.