The last two weeks of life have been extreme hysteria. Thus, tonight I am feeling totally unprepared. I am off tomorrow morning to Scotland for the Holiday Season. At 24 days it will be the shortest of my backpacking trips, and the length will pale in comparison to my 5 month tour of Europe or 3 month tour of AUS/NZ. But it is travel nonetheless. I am off to spend Christmas with my younger brother and his friend who are right now living (and by living I mean drinking) in Edinburgh for the year.
My year has been chaotic but fantastic. A trip to the UK seems like the perfect finishing note for 2009 and a good reward for finishing my degree, finally!
Tonight, I can finally concentrate on the task at hand. I pull out my favorite of all possessions, my trusty and weatherworn backpack. It is still as beautiful as the day I bought it 5 years ago even though it has a few travel scars (As do I!). Nothing else I own is like it. The mere sight of it brings back a rush of memories. It lets me know on days when I feel boring or uninteresting, that in fact I have been quite exciting and adventurous on occasion. This beaten up canvas rucksack has seen 16 countries with me so far, and will see many more if I have my way. It has seen me jump out of airplanes, off bridges, saunter down the Champs de Elysees, and drink a few hundred pints in dark European pubs.
So as I pull out this loyal sidekick and quickly start to abuse it by stuffing what seems to be half of my wardrobe inside, (Rookie backpacker mistake) a strange and familiar warmth fills my stomach.
I am going to cure that inevitable wanderlust that yanks at my heart strings.
And so my trusty backpack and I are outta here!
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