The act of traveling is an impossible broad category, it can encompass both the death march and the cruise ship. Travel has no inherent moral character, no necessary outcome. It can be precious or worthless, productive or destructive. It can be ennobling or self-satisfied. The returns can be only as good as what we offer of ourselves in the process. So what distinguishes meaningful, fruitful travel from mere tourism? What turns travel into a quest rather than self-serving escapism?
*What took you so long? I’ve been Kuwait-ing for you my whole life.
*Do you have a quarter I can Bora Bora? I want to call my mom and tell her I’ve met the girl of my dreams.
*Did you overstay your visa? Because you got ‘fine’ written all over you.
*I want to flip your Ipswich, over Andover, Andover again.
*This may not be India, but since I saw you I’ve felt like I’m in Lucknow
*This may not feel like the right time to get to know you, but Venice the right time?
*Don’t be shy, you Canterbury your feelings from me baby…
*You’re leaving for the Caribbean?! But I just Haiti the thought of ever losing you!