I could tell my mom felt out of her element when she first arrived. But then I heard a Mexican man greet her on the street, I heard her reflexive reply of “hola”, and I saw the small smile that appeared on her face. I knew she was feeling what I feel when I travel internationally: triumph. Triumph at figuring it out, at being able to learn one more thing, at feeling self-sufficient... triumph at discovering the magic trick.
I was born with an urge to roam. It’s innate. When someone like myself decides to go gallivanting around the world alone, the idea didn’t come out of nowhere as if I were struck by lightning. It was a decision that culminated from the escapist urge that’s always been brewing, churning and growing inside me. I started slow; tentatively. I dabbled. I felt the rush. And then a longer trip, a farther trip, a riskier trip, and I was hooked.