Just a little bug bite.

On the last day in Morocco, I stood on the 7th Deck with Paul, Michelle, Liz, Emily, and many other SASer’s, waving goodbye to land for ten days. People were snapping “jumping” photos, and others wore sad faces to show how much they were going to miss country-hoppin’.

I didn’t have an expression on my face. I wasn’t smiling, or frowning, or talking to anyone. I just stood there, mesmerized by the ship’s horn blowing us away from Morocco’s port, away from all the countries we traveled to in the last 2 months. I couldn’t stop staring at the water, at land, wondering if I would ever be back. Wondering if this trip was truly a once-in-a-lifetime whim or if I would make a career out of seeing the world.

I stood there expressionless, trying to pinpoint the first time I felt normal on this trip, as if sailing to a million countries was normal, and it took me a while, but I came up with an answer to my own question. Croatia. I finally felt normal in Croatia, the 3rd country on our itinerary.

Foreign currency was no longer weird paper from the game of Monopoly, but something that I would get used to exchanging in every place. Spanish, Italian, and Grecian Euros, Croatian Kuna (Weasels), Bulgarian Lev, Romanian Lei, Turkish Lira, Egyptian Pounds, and Moroccan Durham. I still have a little of each, and it all seems to blend, every bit of it.

It was in Croatia that language barriers stopped bothering me. I began to learn Spanish, Italian, Croatian, Turkish, Kurdish, and Arabic. I learned the basics, like “Hello,” and “Bathroom, please?” Of course, I don’t remember any of these languages, except a little Italian like, “Ciao, Bella!” but I was able to get myself around after Croatia, and I no longer worried myself into a frenzy wondering whether or not it was okay to use hand gestures when conversing.

Croatia brought me out of my shell, out of my introverted, meek shell and into the world of “just do it, because there may not be another chance”. I stopped worrying about offending people, because people are always going to be offended about something. I talked to people, really began talking to people, because I missed out on this in Spain. I was intimidated in Spain, but no longer in Croatia.
That was the turning point for me on this trip; I started to have fun, let loose, encountering the cultures instead of backing away from them. I don’t regret any experience I had, really. I believe that everything on this trip happened for a reason, and I don’t think I’d change much. There are a million things I want to go back and do in each country, but I think I had my fair share of fun in each. I learned so much.

So, I stood on the 7th deck with my friends, watching as the MV Explorer moved farther and farther away from Morocco, and I finally smiled. I was a traveler. I am a traveler. And that kind of thing just doesn’t go away.

I guess you might say I was bit by the wanderlust bug, and that kind of bite doesn’t really disappear. It scars. People cover it up with work schedules and families and “settling down”, but I don’t ever want to throw away my wanderlust. It’s who I am.

I am a traveler, and I don’t think I waved goodbye to the world forever, no, not forever. I will be back. I shall be back.