I’m thinking of that scene where Jack partakes in a black tie dinner with Kate and fellow “old money” folk in first class. He explains how he is a wanderer, slumming his way from place to place, never knowing where he’ll end up. Under a bridge one night, first class on a ship the next.

That’s our story, too. And I love it. I thrive on the fact that my whole world can change in a day and I can be in a totally new, totally foreign, uncomfortable, comfortable, satisfying or unsatisfying place. No two days are alike. In fact, they’re worlds apart.

The several days leading up to tonight’s ride were brutal to say the least, but wonderful. En route to Piraeus from Romania could have been the roughest travel segment I’ve experienced yet.

I was sick from the coffin, or sleeping couchette, we crammed into with five other people for ten hours, I was throwing up in and outside of the train, on a bus to the airport, in the airport, Sierra’s daypack was stolen in Piraeus, we were nearly thrown off a train by Hungarian police at 4 a.m., Cody lost his favorite hat, we were hot and uncomfortable and dehydrated trekking around the city all day with our bags until we were herded like cattle on the cruise liner at midnight.

But on this journey I also found my fairytale castle, felt the rain on my face running in the Alps, got lost in a world all my own in the most magical green gardens I’d ever seen, spun in a human whirlpool, tasted gelato as it’s meant to be tasted…

….

Sorry, slight pause. Sierra and I just snuck downstairs into the “nice cabins’’” bathrooms to execute a ‘face wipes shower’ in the sinks…our first in three days. Awesome.

And why is this wonderful? Because it’s chaos. It’s foreign and uncomfortable and comfortable and strange and exciting and tiring and trying all at the same time. When I’m pulled at so much every day, confronted with new trials and roadblocks and lucky breaks and let downs and tiny miracles all at once I sometimes feel like I’ll just explode; every emotion I own, some I didn’t even know I possess, is brought to the surface at the same time. I don’t think I can feel any more alive than when I do this.

Just several weeks ago, we were in a five-star apartment driving a baller Escalade around one of the nicest cities in Europe. In Eichenbichel I slept on a cloud at an Austrian bed and breakfast, I bunked in a ten person room in a hostel/club in Prague, and here I am now on the water under the stars.

Do we know where we’re staying in Santorini? Not really. Maybe a hostel, if there’s room, the beach is always an option, camp grounds could be close by, some places rent out apartment rooms…

But wherever we end up is where we’re supposed to be. (I just formed and digested this opinion, it’s kind of liberating). The people you meet, travelers you come across, locals you encounter, train buddies you bunk with, they all are part of your journey that shape your unique experience in a place and when and how you arrive at your next destination. Doors open wherever you are. Wherever they lead, roll with it, hang on, and just love it.

“I feel about travel the way a happy new mother feels about her impossible, colicky, restless newborn baby–i just don’t care what it puts me through. Because I adore it. Because it’s mine. Because it looks exactly like me. It can barf all over me if it wants to– I just don’t care.”
“Eat, Pray, Love” Elizabeth Gilbert

Amen sister.