Digging to China

"The whole object of travel is not to set foot on foreign land; it is at last to set foot on one's own country as a foreign land."

-- G. K. Chesterton

My idea of camping is only two towels in the bathroom at the holiday inn.  So the prospect of going overseas with naught but a carry-on bag, a checked backpack with a week and a half's worth of clothes, and as much cash as I can fit in my wallet is a bit daunting.

Taking the advice of the Newandtheral, more commonly referred to as Walkabout Man, I've decided to start some training.  Right now, it's just a bit of walking after work, but when I get my backpack, I will be loading it down and walking with it so I don't throw my back out my first day there.

Let's face it: London?  Is big.  And taxis are expensive.  And public transit is confusing.

I work 50+ hours a week between the two jobs, so finding time to do all this walking is daunting.  I know I should have been doing it for a few months now, but I've been putting it off.  Right now, however, it's perfect; it's just cool enough in the evenings to keep the mosquitoes away, but warm enough that all I really need is long sleeves and jeans, and maybe a hoodie.  Wednesday I plugged in to some Groban and went for a quick walk before dinner.

It was dark, granted, but the street's fairly lit between the lights from the other houses on the block, and the moon was out.

I love walking after sunset.  Especially when the weather's crisp at night, like it is right now; the stars are clearer and it's easier to pick out the constellations, and when the moon's full, the world is gilded in silver.  The moon's waxing currently, so Jupiter was easy to make out, lingering on the western horizon like some overdue evening star.

Someone remind me to look up at the stars when I go over to England, please?

Thursday I had about an hour between my jobs, so I went down to the lake and walked about for a while.  I haven't been down there in at least a year, maybe two, when Midassa and Tracy and I were all walking together.  The renovations were really lovely -- they've been doing some revitalization since Rita hit back in 2005.

Lake Charles at sunset, looking towards Sulphur, Louisiana, March 10, 2011

Sometimes it's easy to be hard on your own hometown.  Don't get me wrong; some places deserve it.  My grandparents lived in a town with a population of about 200, and it was so infinitely boring out there when I was growing up.  Now, when I go to small towns for my job, the little brick-and-mortar main streets bring back a lovely wave of Americana nostalgia.

The point I'm trying to make is this:  Travel always ends at home, sure.  But it begins there, too.  All you have to do is something out of your regular routine, or just slow down a little bit and look around.

Didn't we all start digging our way through the earth to China in our own backyards as children anyway?