Post Travel Blues

I've been thinking a lot about travel. "No shit Sherlock..." you say, but I have also been thinking of what it's like after you come back home.

A few years ago, I did my first solo trip to London. I spent 10 days there, exploring, discovering, getting lost and talking to anyone who would talk to me. It was one of the best travel time capsules of my life.

Yes, I'm a nerd.

The day I left London was like when your best friend moves away--devastating. I couldn't stop crying. I cried on the way to Heathrow, I cried in customs, I cried on the plane and I cried all the way up 8th avenue to my apartment in midtown Manhattan.

I wanted so badly to be back there: to be discussing the state of music today with the owner of The Lime Tree (my favorite B&B), sharing war stories about travel with the young Aussie, Andrew, who brought me my breakfast (an avid traveler himself), listening to Alan the night watchman's jokes... though I never understood a word he said, I laughed when he did nonetheless.

I am well aware there is a difference between visiting a place and living there. I hear it all the time in NYC, "I wanna live here!!" Yeah. Good luck loving this city after a month. I even said that to a friend I spent the day with in Brighton, "I wish I could live here!" Tasmin just sighed, "No you don't. Just keep traveling."

Brighton

It's true isn't it. I don't want to live there per se. But when I travel I like to live as a local. I observe and absorb everything I can about the culture. I only patronize local establishments. I watch how they pay for things, how they speak with each other, how they argue with shop owners.

In Egypt, I was introduced to the hard sell and how one NEVER pays full price for an item from a street vendor. Bargaining is a way of life there. I was never good at it until one day in Kom Ombo, I was trying to buy a new gallibaya and the shop owner told me it was 300 Egyptian pounds (about $60). I remembered one of our tour guides' advice on bargaining: "He says 300, you say 5 and you meet in the middle at 10. If all else fails, walk away." This is how it went down:

Me: "150"

Him: "300!!"

Me: "140"

Him: "280!!"

Me: "120!!"

Him: "270!!!"

Me: "100!"

(I knew I was being unorthodox but whatever, I had been paying attention)

Him: "250!!!!"

Me: "50!!!!!"

Him: "What are you doing, habibi?? That is too low!! No sale!"

So I turned on my heel and walked away. He came running after me with the dress, "Okay! No problem! 50!!" I took out a 100 pound note and said, "do you have change?" He was really annoyed but when he gave me my change he said, "You tricked me! Well done, habibi."

Smokin' hookah in my new gallibaya

I am always in a state of awe and wonder when I travel. In my everyday life, I am sometimes scared of leaving my comfort zone-- I suspect most everyone is. But traveling is the one thing that does not scare me. I relish the chance to try something new in a foreign land, connect with the rest of humanity and to be a good ambassador for my country. I am free when I travel. When I return home, I go through withdrawal. Every time.

And yet, it comforts me to come back to my apartment in midtown Manhattan. The things that are familiar. My most comfortable bed (I call it The White Wizard). I am glad to be home and yet, as my head hits the pillow after a long day of travel, I can't help but miss those other places.

I suppose the world is my home and my Manhattan apartment is my sanctuary between homes.

(When in London, I always stay at The Lime Tree! www.limetreehotel.co.uk)