“I don’t wanna go home”

I’m the same way at the end of pretty much every trip. With the exception of maybe two or three trips I can remember, toward the end of each, I’m usually saying out loud or thinking, “I don’t wanna go home.” Chris makes fun of me about this every time. Every trip, particularly these Thanksgiving long weekends in Europe, always seems too short and like we didn’t have enough time. We’re pretty good about planning in that we ambitiously cover a lot of ground and see most of what we had planned, but it never feels like enough, and I’m always left with this lingering feeling that I wish we just had a few more days.

The other thing about travel that always makes me want to keep traveling and sight-seeing and eating the foods I don’t normally eat is that because it’s a trip, it’s time away from my “real life,” my everyday in New York that includes work, chores, errands — the routine that isn’t as exciting or new to me. In some way, it’s like escaping reality to enter into a new reality that is far away and foreign, and that in itself is an adventure.

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