Tuesday, March 06, 2012

Why I hate writing about travel.

Hands-down, the worst part of my job is writing about travel.

I know, I know. I'm a horrible human being. Who could hate writing about travel. . .for pay? For regular pay? And ethical travel, at that? I mean, what is wrong with me?

Best part of my job? Drinking hot chocolate in the middle of the afternoon, every day. Sadly, I do not get paid for this activity.

Here's the thing: Every day, I read through pitches and stories from contributors about teaching English in Bahrain, racing taxi cabs through Mongolia and stopping deforestation in Antarctica. (You caught that? Just checking to see if you're still reading.) They're inspiring and amazing tales of personal discovery and adventure of exotic locales.

But while I'm reading these pitches, I'm sitting in my little home office (also known as "the kitchen counter") in Toronto, wearing pajamas and the exact same hoodie I've worn for the last five days. My dog is sitting at my feet whining for me to feed him and I'm surviving on lukewarm coffee alone. Basically, writing about travel is a constant reminder that I'm not travelling.

I've spent a lot of time this week catching up on travel blogs, trying to bring myself up to date on the community. (I'm certainly not new to travel blogging, having started this site six years ago, but I also wouldn't necessarily consider myself part of the in-crowd. In fact, I'm torn about whether I should attend TBEX '12 this year. I suspect the deciding factor is the prospect of driving from Keystone to Salt Lake City. I've been obsessed with going to Utah ever since I read John Krakauer's Under the Banner of Heaven.)

And I've gotta tell you, it's a depressing activity.

Everyone seems to have one thing in common--they gave up their lives for travel. It's enough to make me think that when I was rewriting the "About" section on my site last night, I probably should have started it with, "I haven't quit my life to travel full-time. I still have a job, a condo, a boyfriend and a dog. How terribly status quo of me. You should probably just stop reading this blog now."

But maybe that's my purpose here. Maybe I'm here to prove that you don't have to quit your life to travel.

So onwards.

Next stop? Victoria.

1 comment:

  1. It is always sad to leave a place to which one knows one will never return. Such are the melancolies du voyage: perhaps they are one of the most rewarding things about traveling.


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