For many years I've had the distinct urge to travel. I'm not joking. I certainly don't claim to be alone in this longing, and being "passionate about travel" has become a mark of every member of our generation. But nonetheless, I love it.
In middle school and high school, I used to spend countless hours researching places to go. Sunday afternoons and latenights in the Barnes & Noble travel section bring fond memories to mind. I had the ridiculous fortune of going all over the world: Ireland, England, Italy, Alaska, Mexico, Peru, Spain, France, Ghana, Czech Republic, Jamaica, Brazil, and the glorious capstone of a three week roadtrip out west.
After my three weeks on the road, and entering the magical realm called college, my thirst seems strangely quenched. I felt much more content with where I was and what I was doing. The combination of truly seeing much of the world and finding a new excitement and passion at UGA left me satisfied. Travel, while a joy, no longer felt like a basic necessity on the same level as water and oxygen.
But now, I'm back in the game. Three weeks in China and six weeks in Costa Rica doesn't hurt my feelings in the least.
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