Ever since I can remember I’ve been so curious about different cultures of the world, landscapes, the cuisines of far away lands, people of all different backgrounds, art, history, politics—I want to immerse myself in it and experience it all. I have a consistent craving for anything that is new and different to me—a new city to explore, a new street food stall, a different climate, different colored buildings, old architecture, a bed other than my own, a new body of water to soak in, foreign languages to listen to (and attempt to speak), smells, sights, and sounds that I wouldn’t experience in my everyday life at home. Waking up in a new city knowing you have the whole day ahead of you to do whatever you want to do whenever you want— nothing but time, a camera, cash in your wallet, and endless possibilities of people to meet, foods to try, and streets to roam. That’s my idea of pure bliss.

Compared to some other people my age I haven’t traveled all that much in my life, or at least haven’t traveled very far outside of the U.S. As far as other countries go I’ve only traveled to Italy and twice to Canada where I just drove over to the city on the border and spent the day. My family wasn’t ever able to afford to go on extravagant trips to Europe in the summers or anything like the stories you hear about how people found their love for travel at a young age. Although I definitely had several people who helped influence my desire to travel, I think it’s also something that’s innate and more of a deeper soul desire.

My experience with travel for the majority of my life was flying out to Northern Michigan in the summers for a few weeks to visit my family, a trip I looked forward to all year. My other travel experiences as a kid included a few trips to Lake Tahoe, a couple trips to Disneyland, a trip to Hawaii when I was ten, a road trip to Oregon, a road trip to the Grand Canyon, a trip to Las Vegas, many weekend and day trips to San Francisco and the surrounding Bay Area, and a family vacation in Napa Valley. Actually now that I think about it I was a pretty damn lucky kid to have all those experiences that I did. Of course when you’re only comparing yourself to kids whose families could afford to take them on trips to tropical islands in the Caribbean its easy to feel like you haven’t traveled much of anywhere. But traveling doesn’t have to just mean getting your passport stamped in another country, it can be as simple as taking a drive to a neighboring town and trying out a new restaurant or even taking a walk on a street in your own city that you haven’t been to before. That’s what travel is isn’t it? Getting outside of your house and having a new experience?

I was so lucky to grow up in Northern California only over an hour away from the Bay Area and so many awesome cities and things to see and do and then to the east the Sierras and a landmine of cool gold rush towns along the way and a drastically different landscape. I really didn’t have to travel very far at all to have experiences completely diverse from the one before. Even my hometown of Stockton California itself had the richest diversity of cultures that you can find in a city. I could walk down the street and have the best carne asada tacos ever for $3 or less and then a little father down the road Filipino takeout, fresh sushi galore, soul food, Korean bbq, and just about any other cuisine you could think of. I was lucky enough to have so many different cultures of the world accessible to me right in my very own hometown and I know this had a huge influence on conjuring up my curiosity for what all was out there in the world, (make note to write post about Stockton soon).

If I had to pick who was most influential in inspiring me to travel it would probably be my maternal grandparents. My grandpa was in the military and was stationed all over the world and my grandma and their four kids came along for the ride. My mom was the youngest of the four so most of her adolescence was spent settled in one place, but as for my aunts and uncle who were older they moved as many as 17 times or more before reaching adulthood. Talk about an unconventional childhood!

Even after spending so much of their lives traveling all over the world for my grandpa’s military career my grandparents still traveled frequently after he retired from the military and they settled down back in California. The two of them traveled to all 50 states, some more than once, and spent time in countless countries. I was fortunate enough to take several road trips with them as a kid—going through the drive through redwood tree in my grandpa’s station wagon, filling up a bag full of colorful rocks at a kitschy souvenir shop, stopping at Casa De Fruta for dried fruit and nuts on the way to Monterey, and riding the It’s a Small World ride at Disneyland with my grandma. (Wishing I had the pictures from these trips right now). I wish those memories didn’t feel so far in the past and that I was able to make more but I’m very grateful to have them nonetheless. They were always up for an Uncle Wiggily adventure as they called them and I absolutely loved that about them.

I have my paternal grandparents as well to thank for lots of great travel memories. Them living in Northern Michigan and myself growing up in Northern California we would typically only see each other once or twice a year, but when we did it was always filled with adventures and fulfilled days as my grandpa and I liked to call them. When they came out to California to visit we always took a trip to somewhere new whether it was in wine country, the foothills, or the coast. It was so much fun to explore more of my home state with family who was just as excited about being there as I was. When I would come to Michigan it was typically all about spending as much time with family as possible so we didn’t venture out too far but still there seemed to always be a new adventure in each day.

Something I learned from my grandpa that I always try to live by is never taking the same road twice. My grandpa was one to make an adventure out of the mundane and would always take the long way home if that meant we could get a better view. I always loved riding in the car when he was driving because he would take us all around town wherever we were, telling stories and pointing things out that I wouldn’t have otherwise noticed and a drive through the boat harbor was surely never skipped. The story goes that my great great grandma was the one who instilled in him to never take the same road twice and was known to drive off the road even through corn fields because she didn’t want to take the same route as on the way there. A woman I sure hope I get to meet in the spirit realm one day.

Every trip I’ve ever taken, whether it was just a day trip to the Santa Cruz beach boardwalk or backpacking in Yellowstone, it didn’t matter what the trip was I just never wanted it to end. When I’m on my own schedule traveling I could spend the entire day walking around taking pictures until my feet are full of blisters and its late into the night and I’ll still want to do it again the next day. I’ve always tried to come up with ways to stay just one more day or make one last stop before going back home. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy about all that I had gotten to see or do but there was just so much more left, how could I possibly leave without trying to see it all? Logically I know that it obviously isn’t realistic to experience everything there is in the world in one lifetime, yet my desire doesn’t seem to be wavering anytime soon.