In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Happy Wanderer.”
I like going places where I can just walk around the joint. It could be a museum or some landmark, but I truly prefer a place with some wandering is expected and encouraged by the facility. Most of the time it also depends on who I am going with. A trip to any place with my father turns into a Bataan Death March because he likes to walk at a rapid pace to observe things. Some of the most beautiful scenery on the planet and my father is walking at 5 miles an hour, camera wrapped around his neck, looking for the next item on his mental checklist. He’s gotten better because of grandchildren, but then they like to run anyway!
The last few years have been odd for travel. Some money constraints, and other family things that just took priority. Those family weddings were turned into longer trips, even a funeral was a multi-day adventure just so we had some time to get away. For a while we were working different schedules, so even having dinner together was a treat for me. That hour being the best part of the day. But back to travel stuff…
I have only one stupid rule for when I travel, it has to be near a place where I can go for a run. The hotel can have a gym, but running outside is the way to go. The one exception being the weekend I spent in Philadelphia. Too many traffic lights always working in the opposite way of my travels. So I had to sacrifice history for ease of use. Plus it let someone sleep in late while I would grind out a few miles.
Places with a sense of history have always been appealing to me. Trips to Austria, Germany, italy [and I still won’t go back to Venice, I really dislike that place!]; they all have wonderful churches and palaces, museums of all sorts. Even as a teenager I would wander around just insanely jealous of the structures they had built. My camera going crazy trying to capture the water coming from carved deer heads or water pumped organs. Even little parks in the countryside held a fascination where one of my companions would pose on a see-saw just so we could capture the scale of these toys.
I was 21 years old when some friends and I rented a house in Stone Harbor, New Jersey. One of those family oriented communities where the businesses shutdown by 8 o’clock with the exception of the ice cream parlor and movie theater, which I think closed at 9! There we were, dumb college kids, shacked up for the week. We cooked out every night, each taking turns preparing something. My pal Jason and I would get up and go play basketball in the morning for a hour or two. Surprisingly not an ounce of alcohol was present. We even spent our evenings playing board games or reading some novels. Old people had invaded our bodies, or maybe we just learned to appreciate each other and didn’t need the other stuff. [fun history lesson, my godson must have come about on that trip! ‘Nuff said…]
There have been some wonderful trips over the years, but mainly I like to go with a few people who are of the same mind as I am about doing things. The scenery doesn’t matter as much to me as spending the time with people. Plenty of times we have gone in different directions to see opposing items, it’s never mattered to me. The memories I have of all the places I have been are always accompanied by the people I was with. So I guess I’m just happy wandering anywhere with people I care about.